The Kraken and the Lion
by Technomad
Summary: What if Asha Greyjoy had been sent to Kings Landing as an ironborn envoy...and taken up with Tyrion Lannister? Can two misfits find happiness with one another? AU for A Clash of Kings
1. Chapter 1

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 01

A _Song of Ice and Fire_ fanfic

by Technomad

Asha Greyjoy

Asha could smell King's Landing before she could see it.

She was standing on the foredeck of her ship, the _Black Wind_, as she approached King's Landing, and the smell, even out at sea, was quite distinctive. She wrinkled her nose. She was a daughter of the Iron Islands, and much preferred the clean smell of sea air. _How do people__ live __like this_? she wondered. Of course, King's Landing was by far the largest city she had ever been to. Her trading voyages to the Westerosi mainland and to other lands had mostly taken her to small towns or coastal holdfasts and castles.

She glanced off to port, to see one of the royal dromonds that was escorting her ship, and nodded approvingly. For non-ironborn, the crew seemed to be competent and know what it was doing. She wondered if she'd be allowed to go out to sea on a dromond while she was in King's Landing; she had a lot of professional curiosity about how they differed from her own people's longships. She made a mental note to inquire about a friendly visit to the royal navy.

Asha had never expected to go to King's Landing, and had been shocked by her father's request that she travel there. "But, father," she'd asked, "can't someone else go?"

"No, Asha," her father had replied. "Theon's been corrupted by the Starks, and is too closely identified with them to be welcome there, and I don't have anybody else I trust as much. You're smart, loyal, and able to handle those people. Besides, Asha, I want you out of Pyke. This new situation since King Robert died is fluid, and there are people who'd try to hurt me by striking at you."

She had argued, and even begged, but in the end, she had obeyed. Partly because she was a loyal daughter, and, she had to admit, partly from curiosity to see this new place. She had never been at a royal court in her life, and it promised to be different from anything she had ever seen.

The _Black Wind_ had been met off the coast by the royal dromonds, and been "offered" an escort into the harbor at King's Landing. Asha had smiled and accepted the offer, knowing that if she didn't, her ship might well suffer a "tragic accident." Her people did not have a good reputation, and many folk still shuddered at the sight of an Iron Islands longship going past.

_Black Wind _sailed on into the harbor, its flag with the gold kraken on its black background flying proudly, as Asha took careful note of everything she saw, making mental notes about the fortifications, the shipping, and anything else that might be of interest. Her first thought at the sight of King's Landing itself was _What a place to plunder!_ Then she grinned…she _was_ an ironborn, no matter how unusual her kinsfolk considered her to be! Who else would look at a new place and immediately start thinking about how many ships-ful of men it would take to load up all the wealth that could be taken there?

As her crew tied the _Black Wind_ to her quay, an escort of soldiers with black stags embroidered on their yellow cloaks came down to meet her. At their head rode a man in full plate armor, with a pure white cloak. Asha bowed to him, knowing that this man represented the king she had been sent to meet.

"Lady Asha, I am Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard. It shall be my pleasure to escort you to the throne room, where you may pay your respects to his Grace, Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name."

Asha considered him. He was a well-set-up man, but she knew that the Kingsguard required its men to be celibate, and apparently, chaste as well. She had read up on everything she could find on the Westerosi court under the guidance of her nuncle Rodrik the Reader, and she had a hard time believing that anybody would join such an order, or take such prohibitions seriously.

Her men obeyed her orders to form up behind her and follow her to the palace, and she began to wonder if it would be possible to find out about members of the Kingsguard who were derelict in their observance of their vows. _If I can seduce one of them_, she thought, _that will give me a hold on him, that I can use to gain information!_ Of course, she knew that this would be a dangerous course of action to take…blackmail was by no means a safe pursuit, in the Iron Islands as elsewhere…but she had not become the captain of the _Black Wind_, nor established her dominance over an unruly, all-male crew of ironborn, without learning to deal with danger.

As they passed through the streets, Asha noted signs that all was not well. There did not seem to be much food available, and what there was, was very high-priced. The people appeared ill-fed, staring sullenly and apathetically as the procession passed them. Asha had expected hostility; the ironborn were not popular on the Westerosi mainland. However, instead of hostile glares, she and her crew were treated to indifference. Asha began to have dark suspicions about the state of affairs in Westeros' capital city.

_I've heard that there was war, but if this city's not being kept well-stocked with food, things might be rougher than I had believed!_ Asha's sharp mind began considering how this might be turned to ironborn advantage. At the moment, the Iron Islands were more-or-less neutral, and she knew that other areas were still well-found for food. If the ironborn started sailing convoys of food into Kings Landing, they could easily make large profits, and make themselves some new friends. The world was bigger than many ironborn thought, and they were not a numerous people. Friends, and allies, could be very useful.

OOO

The ironborn were escorted into the Red Keep by white-clad knights of the Kingsguard and gold-cloaked men whom Asha had learned were members of the City Watch. Once the gates of the Keep had shut behind them, Asha noticed that some of her men were nervous.

"Keep calm, lads," she muttered. "We're an embassy, and they won't hurt us." Privately, she hoped she wouldn't be proven mistaken. She had never heard of an embassy being attacked, but she also knew that there was a first time for everything, and much of what she had seen disquieted her.

Asha entered the throne room and looked up, at the Iron Throne. As she had been told, it was clearly made entirely from swords, and looked singularly uncomfortable. A herald intoned: "The emissaries from Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, wish audience with His Majesty, Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms!" Asha and all her men bowed respectfully, keeping to the etiquette they had been told was mandatory.

To Asha's sharp eye, Joffrey Baratheon did not look particularly regal as he lounged in the Iron Throne. He looked to her like a petulant, spoiled boy, bored and irritable, and she knew that combined with the power granted him by the crown on his golden…_golden?_…hair, his immaturity made him dangerous and unpredictable.

"We gladly greet you, and welcome you to Kings Landing. Our small council will deal with you, and We shall see you at the feast prepared for you tonight." The words were correct, but drawled out in tones of utter boredom and disdain. Asha bristled slightly, and felt her men stiffening as they sensed the King's contempt for them. They were ironborn, and tended to feel that they were an elite among men; knowing that they were seen as little better than barbarians angered them. Asha urgently signalled them to keep their tempers. It would not do to have her embassy ruined by some of her men losing control as they were presented to the King!

As they were escorted to the chambers prepared for them, Asha wondered what they would be feasting on. Kings Landing was not under siege directly, but she had seen more than enough signs to know that food was scarce; she did not think that the smallfolk would like it if they were going hungry while their King and his men stuffed themselves in the Red Keep.

Once they were in their chambers, Asha sat down and began mentally composing the first of her reports to her father and nuncle Rodrik. She also began putting together an inventory of the furnishings and decorations she had seen; she did not think there would be any real chance of an ironborn sacking of the Red Keep, but the thought was there.

A little while later, a deferential knock on the door announced the servants. Asha was used to thralls, but free servants were something different. She decided to treat them as she would her crew. "Good. Stow my seachest over here by the side of the bed, where I can reach it quickly." The servants did as they were told, giving her fearful glances, as though she were her nuncle Victarion and likely to kill them for existing. Asha inwardly sighed. She liked respect, but mindless fear was something else entirely.

She changed into her finest Iron Islands clothing for the feast, knowing that she would be on display before many of the notables of Westeros, and not wanting to shame her people by looking like a wharf rat. When the summons came, she followed a servant down to the Great Hall, smiling at the smells of good food that wafted along the corridors. Then she remembered the signs of the smallfolks' hunger she had seen outside, and shook herself slightly. Were these people fools?

OOO

Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion Lannister studied the Iron Islands delegation as they filed on into the Great Hall. He had been surprised to see that they were apparently led by a woman. From what he knew of the Iron Islands, they were even less fond of the idea of female rule over men than his own people. _This woman may well be a useful person to know_, he thought.

Joffrey had not deigned to show up for the feast himself. "His Majesty is indisposed," an official declared, solemnly enough that most people would have believed him. Tyrion hid a smile. He knew that his nephew was being kept well away from the Iron Islanders. Joffrey's loose mouth and impulsive bad behavior could lose the court any chance of enlisting the ironborn as allies of the regime.

A septon pronounced a blessing, and everybody fell to eating. The ironborn seemed to all have hearty appetites, which didn't surprise Tyrion any. He knew from his reading that the Iron Islands were poor…their motto of "We do not sow" was partly because they didn't have very much good farmland. As the Hand of the King, Tyrion was seated near the head of the table, across from the young woman who had headed the ironborn delegation. Queen Cersei was at the head of the table, eating in lonely majesty and speaking to nobody, which suited Tyrion right down to the ground.

He studied her, liking what he saw. She was slender but looked to be quite strong, with dark eyes and short dark hair. In some superficial ways, he was reminded of Shae, and tamped that thought down firmly. The idea that such a woman might find him attractive was impossible.

She was studying him closely as well, he noticed. She quirked a smile, which transformed her face from one that was merely handsome into one with true beauty. "So…you're Lord Tyrion, I take it. I've heard of you."

"And you're the leader of the Iron Islands delegation. You're not what I expected." Tyrion smiled back at her.

She smirked slightly. "Yes, I'm considered a bit freakish at home. Most ironborn women stay home and raise babies. I don't even have a husband."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are all the men blind, then?" To his amusement, the ironborn woman blushed slightly.

"I think they don't know what to make of me. I captain my own ship, the Black Wind, which makes me an independent ruler in my own right. We have a saying that 'every captain is a king on his own ship,' and most men are not wild about marrying a woman that outranks them. The other captains are themselves all married men, and their wives see me as a threat to their positions. That doesn't leave many men for me, I'm afraid."

"I have a similar problem, my lady. On the one hand, I am a Lannister of Casterly Rock, which makes me very, very eligible. On the other hand, I am…" sweeping his hand down to indicate his short, stunted body…"the one they call 'the Imp.'" He gave her a bitter smile. "Most noblewomen would sooner marry Gregor Clegane than me."

"Gregor Clegane?" The ironborn woman was puzzled.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "They call him 'The Mountain that Rides.' He's seven or so feet tall, as broad as he is tall, and as mean as he is big. He serves my family, but he's a monster. He loves nothing more than inflicting pain and suffering. He's been married several times, and his wives all died…mysteriously." Tyrion grinned humorlessly. "I'd say there's nothing mysterious about their deaths. Nonetheless, many fathers will still offer him their daughters, simply because he's a Clegane and well up in my father's favor."

The ironborn woman quirked an eyebrow. "If I were his wife, there'd be a death, all right. But there'd be nothing mysterious about it!" She pulled the top of her jacket aside, revealing a small fighting axe and a dagger strapped to her side. "Ironborn, remember? Even normal ironborn wives take no abuse lightly. After all, they have to stay home and keep the house going when the men are gone trading or raiding."

Tyrion thought about finding Gregor Clegane stabbed in his bed, and decided he quite liked the idea. "I like the way you think, my lady." At the head of the table, Queen Cersei signalled that the meal was over, and everybody rose. "Since I am the Hand of the King, in my father's absence, we shall meet again, my lady."

As she turned to go back to her quarters, the ironborn woman gave Tyrion a long, considering look. "My name, my lord Hand, is Asha. You may address me by it, if you prefer. We ironborn are less fond of empty courtesies than you."

Tyrion bowed. "And, at least in private, you may call me Tyrion." For some time after the ironborn delegation had left, he looked after them, his mind churning.

END Chapter 01


	2. Chapter 2

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 2

by Technomad

Asha Greyjoy

The next morning, Asha awoke to the sounds of weapons clashing. Before she realized where she was, she leaped to her feet, naked, and ran for her sword belt. Then she remembered just where she was, and felt rather silly. If the castle was under attack, there'd be trumpets blowing and almost certainly men shouting in anger as they fought. Instead, it sounded like weapons practice.

Wrapping her cloak around herself to shield her body, she went to the window and looked down. In the courtyard below, she saw a bunch of rough-looking men, and a few women, practicing with weapons. Shouts came to her ears:

"Ho! If you do not give Shagga son of Dolf more of a challenge, little Burned Man, Shagga will cut off your manhood and feed it to the goats!"

"The day Timett son of Timett fears your threats, you great hairy ox, he will burn off his own balls!"

_This_ sounded interesting. Asha jumped into her clothes and flew through her morning routine, then left her rooms, gathering her men about her as she walked down the corridors. Soon, they were standing at the edge of the courtyard, watching the training. This attracted some attention.

"Hey, you soft men! Why do you watch us? Does Shagga son of Dolf make you tremble?" This was the biggest man in the courtyard, a mountain of muscle and hair.

"We are _ironborn_, and we never learned how to tremble. We enjoy watching your practice." That was Hagen the Horn. He stepped forward. "What sort of men are you, anyway?"

"We are the clansmen of the Mountains of the Moon. And I am Shagga, son of Dolf, who fights with an axe in either hand! Can any of you 'ironborn' face me on the practice field?"

Hagen selected a blunted weapon from a rack that was standing nearby. "Shagga son of Dolf, Hagen the Horn of the Iron Islands accepts your challenge." With that, formalities were complete, and the bout began. Everybody else stood back to watch.

Asha was slightly worried; Shagga son of Dolf looked like he could overwhelm Hagen easily, and Shagga clearly agreed. With a roar, he leaped forward, surprisingly quick on his feet for such a big man. However, Hagen was no battle-virgin, and dodged aside, slashing out with his practice sword and nearly scoring one on Shagga.

Asha found herself standing next to a tall, dark, saturnine man who rather put her in mind of a wolf. "You're new here, my lady," he remarked, looking her over boldly. "Who might you be?"

"Asha Greyjoy, my lord. I was sent here by my father as a representative of the Iron Islands. Who are you?"

"Bronn, and I'm no lord. Just the captain of my lord Hand's guard."

"You mean Lord Tyrion? Are these his guards?" Asha began thinking hard. If the Hand of the King, the second-most-powerful man in the kingdom and the real ruler during the king's minority, needed his own guard force, things here were worse than she had thought.

"Yes, they are. They're mountain clansmen, from the Vale of Arryn. Lord Tyrion recruited them after we were released from the Eyrie. He recruited me in the Eyrie, after I represented him in a trial by combat."

"Really?" Asha pricked up her ears; this was meat and drink to an ironborn. "What was the trial about?"

"He'd been accused of trying to have the young son of the Starks, Bran, assassinated in his bed. Lady Catelyn had had him arrested at an inn where he'd stopped on his way back to Kings Landing from the Wall. She'd had him taken there because her sister Lysa rules the Eyrie, and she hoped that her sister would execute the Imp."

Asha was dumfounded. "She must be mad, and so would her sister have to be to do such a thing!" In the Iron Islands, any family trying that on a prominent member of another family would have been deliberately inviting a blood feud, and would get no sympathy whatsoever if things went wrong. "Why did she think Lord Tyrion would have her son assassinated, anyway?"

"That, Lady Asha, is a very good question, and one I'd like to find the answer to, myself." Asha turned to find herself confronted with the very man they'd been discussing. Tyrion Lannister quirked a sardonic eyebrow. "Do go on. Don't mind me."

"Well," Bronn continued, clearly enjoying getting attention from an attractive woman, "Lord Tyrion managed to get them to allow him a trial-by-combat, instead of just having him thrown out the Moon Door. The Eyrie is up a very tall mountain," he explained, "and the Moon Door opens on a six-hundred-foot drop. It's how they execute people there."

"Bronn, here, won out against an armored knight, which they didn't expect. He's 'just a sellsword,'" Tyrion smirked, "and they didn't think he had much of a chance. After the fight, they had to let me go, and so they did…right down the path on the mountain, through the clans' territory. I met them, and…persuaded…them to let us pass."

" He offered them good arms. They were equipped with whatever odds-and-ends they could scrounge, and he said that he'd give them arms and armor. They liked that idea, and sent a bunch of their people along with him to make sure he came through. He did, and they stayed on in his service."

"A Lannister always pays his debts. _Always_." Tyrion gave Asha a smile that reminded her of a cat that had managed to steal and eat a big fish. Asha figured out that the mountain clans and the people of the Vale did not get along, and that the Vale had always had the upper hand…until Tyrion came along.

By that time, her crew and the mountain clansmen had paired off, and were practicing, hard and heavy. Asha noticed that one of the clansmen was a clans_woman_. "Who is that?"

"Chella, daughter of Cheyk. She's a clan chief in her own right, of the Black Ears." Asha saw a necklace of withered black things around Chella's neck. "She's taken forty-six ears by herself, and her sons have taken fifty between them, she says."

Asha whistled her admiration. "If she were ironborn, I'd want to recruit her for my crew!" While most ironborn women stayed at home and had babies, there were exceptions, she being merely the most conspicuous among them. One of her own crew was a woman, the daughter of Hagen the Horn.

Chella looked over, and her eyes widened at the sight of Asha. "Hey! Ironwoman! Care to have a go?"

Asha smiled broadly. "Don't mind if I do!" She selected a practice sword and shield and walked over to Chella. "Shall we?"

"Chella daughter of Cheyk of the Black Ears clan will show you a thing or two, ironborn woman. Stick to your ships and leave fighting to _us_!"

"Asha daughter of Balon of the Greyjoy clan will make you eat those ill-chosen words, Chella!" With that, the two women went after each other, their blunted blades ringing off each other as they circled, eyes narrowed as they probed for weaknesses in the other's style. Everybody else stopped practicing to watch.

"Timett son of Timett could show that ironborn woman a thing or two," commented the one-eyed mountain clansman.

"Hah! Shagga son of Dolf would make her wish she had stayed home and had his babies!"

Asha and Chella attacked simultaneously, slashing and parrying; from what Asha could tell, they were pretty evenly matched. After a little while, they backed off by unspoken mutual consent. Asha wiped sweat out of her eyes and grinned; some exercise was just what she had needed to get her muscles back in tone and her land legs back after her long voyage from Pyke.

"You're pretty good, Chella! Back home you could hold your own with anybody!"

Chella grabbed a water-bag someone threw to her and took a quick swig before tossing it back. "And you're not unskilled yourself, ironwoman! You could lead a mountain clan yourself!"

Lord Tyrion came over. "Much as I hate to interrupt, I need to claim Lady Asha. It's time for the Small Council to meet, and she's expected to be present."

"Another time, Chella." Bowing slightly to her opponent, Asha went over and put up the practice sword and shield she had been using. Then she turned to her crewmen. "Keep on practicing, lads. Show these mountaineers what ironborn can do!" Then she had an inspiration. "Maybe teach them how to finger dance!" With that, she turned to follow Lord Tyrion and Bronn, who seemed to shadow Lord Tyrion.

As she paced along, a little slower than she wanted to go in deference to Lord Tyrion's difficulty in moving too fast, Asha was thinking, hard. _If Lord Tyrion's the Hand of the King, __why__ does he need a personal guard force? Are there people who're out to take him down? Who could dare do such a thing?_ She resolved to keep her eyes open and find out more.

Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion had been amused, but not too surprised, to find that their guests from Pyke had fallen in with his wild mountain men. Their cultures had a lot in common; the ironmen much preferred raiding to other activities, from what he had read of them. If the ironmen contingent made friends with his clansmen, they'd be likely to side with him if things went bad…and he could think of many ways that things could go very wrong, very quickly.

The war had severely disrupted normal trade, and Kings Landing was hungry. His sweet sister and her _royal_ son pretended that nothing was wrong, but when riding through the streets, Tyrion noticed many things. Food was scarce, and prices for it when it was available were very high. He had seen people who looked to be near to starvation, particularly when riding through Flea Bottom. Bronn circulated freely in the city, and had brought him back many reports, none of which were reassuring.

Tyrion, unlike his siblings, was a reader, and he had read history attentively. As a Lannister of Casterly Rock, he knew that his actions and those of his family had ramifications. He knew of analogous situations to the one that currently faced the regime, and they had never turned out well for the rulers. If Joffrey's various enemies had known just how bad things were in Kings Landing, they could probably have provoked an uprising in their favor just by having their agents spread the word that King Robb, or King Stannis, or anybody else, would bring in plentiful food.

The rest of the Lannisters were too arrogant, and too absorbed in their own lives, to even notice the smallfolk, but Tyrion had never had that luxury. His mind turned to ways to ease the food shortage, and he thought about how the Iron Islanders could help. Their longships were no match for dromonds, as they had found out during Balon's Rebellion, but they were not currently actively at war with any of the other factions, so they could pass unchallenged…and they could carry food from the Lannisport area, which was unaffected by the war so far, into Kings Landing. Not to mention ferrying Lannister troops in, should the land routes become unavailable.

When they arrived, they found Queen Cersei waiting for them, along with Pycelle, Petyr Baelish, Varys and Janos Slynt. The men all rose when Asha entered the room, but Cersei contented herself with a regal nod. "Lady Asha. We welcome you. Please, be seated, all," said Cersei. Tyrion had to admit, his sister could carry off her role in public very well. Of course, she had years of practice, and Tyrion privately thought that had she not been a noblewoman, his sister would have made an excellent actress. Cersei was beautiful, vain, selfish, treacherous, erratic, greedy and cruel; Tyrion believed that she would have fit right into the world of the theater, and likely been happier than she was as a queen.

"We are glad to see you here, Lady Asha, and we hope that this presages a better relationship between the Iron Throne and the Iron Islands. When you have the time, I hope you will favor an old man by answering his silly questions about your people. A maester's duty is knowledge," said Pycelle. Tyrion wasn't sure, but he thought that the Grand Maester's interests weren't purely disinterested…he saw what had to be a gleam of attraction in the old man's eye. To his surprise, he felt a jolt of anger. _Keep away from her, old man! She's not for you! _ Tyrion firmly tramped on that traitorious thought, hoping no sign of it had passed across his face.

Tyrion took control of the meeting, as his sister sat back and concentrated on looking "regal"…which, to her mind, meant looking spectacularly bored, as though the whole Small Council meeting was nothing but a rather dull mummers' show that was being put on for the court. "Lady Asha. What would it take for Lord Balon to commit to an alliance with us against our enemies?"

Asha clearly liked his approach. He had heard that the ironmen were straightforward types, impatient with subterfudge and subtlety. She looked thoughtful. "Well…we're not a wealthy people. We're also not numerous. Dangle riches in front of us, and we're quite likely to be very open to suggestions." She gave them all a smile.

Tyrion and Cersei exchanged glances. "The Throne is not, itself, well-off at the moment. The war, and the previous regime, have left us in debt. However, House Lannister is wealthy, thanks to our gold mines and other resources. And you must have heard that 'a Lannister always pays his debts.' If you help us, House Lannister will consider itself to be in debt to House Greyjoy."

_Aha_! Lady Asha's face was still, but Tyrion saw a gleam of avarice in her eyes. Carefully, he began to build on that idea, feeling rather like a fisherman reeling in a large pike that had just barely been hooked.

END Chapter 02


	3. Chapter 3

The Kraken and the Lion, Chapter 03

by Technomad

_Asha Greyjoy_

The next morning, Asha rolled out of bed, feeling bright-eyed and chipper. After dressing, she tiptoed down the hall, peeking in on her crew. She was greeted with a symphony of loud snores, and a smell of stale wine that could have knocked her on her rear. She gently closed the door, grinning to herself.

Last night, at dinner, her crew had been introduced to a liquid refreshment called "Arbor gold." They had taken to it eagerly, pouring it back and yelling for more. Asha, up at the high table with the rest of the nobles, had had a cup of it in front of her. While it was completely heavenly, she had known that she wanted a clear, non-aching head the next morning, and restricted herself to the one cup. Queen Cersei had been less temperate, and had become visibly tipsy by the time the evening was over (and many of her men were under the table) but she had noticed her brother, Lord Tyrion, looking at her with approval in his mismatched eyes.

If Asha was any judge, she figured that when her men finally did wake up, there'd be groans of pain and calls for chamberpots to throw up into. She spotted a passing maidservant, and told her to have some manservants on call nearby, to help her men through their hangovers. With a bounce in her step, she went down to the Great Hall. She could smell breakfast, and unlike her men, she had a hearty appetite for it. Exercising with the mountain clansmen had been fun, but had tired her out well and she had slept like the dead.

The Great Hall was all but deserted; it was early in the morning. Asha sat down at a table, and soon an attentive servant was placing a tray in front of her. She smelled the savory odor of sausages, ham and a big omelette, and soon she was eating heartily. On the Iron Islands, even the nobility sometimes had short commons, so she had learned early on to eat when she could; there was no guarantee that the next meal would be on time, or fit to eat when it came.

"Ah, I see you're up early too," came a familiar voice, and Asha turned to see Lord Tyrion waddling into the hall. He perched himself on a chair across from her, studying her intently. "I am often the only person up at this hour, other than the servants. I don't really sleep too well."

"Really, my lord?" Asha finished off her breakfast and took a sip of watery ale. At this hour, she did not want a fuzzy head. "I slept very well, myself. All that exercise, topped off with that _wonderful_ meal…" She gave him a big smile. "This place is wonderful! I loved meeting your mountain clansmen! May my men and I exercise with them again?"

"I don't see why not," Lord Tyrion answered. "The Small Council has other business to take care of today, and you won't be required. Why don't you go explore the castle? If you get lost or turned around, any servant will be happy to show you back to where you want to go."

That sounded excellent to Asha. She didn't want to have to deal with her hungover crew, and being on the other side of the castle when they awoke with pounding heads, dry mouths and heaving bellies struck her as a good idea. She loved her countrymen, but she had to admit, ironborn could be hard to deal with sometimes.

After the servants took her plate and cup to the kitchen, she rose, bowed politely to Lord Tyrion, who returned her bow with a slightly odd expression on his face, and headed off down a promising-looking corridor. Soon, she was happily exploring what seemed like miles of castle, peering out of windows, admiring tapestries and carved wooden panels, and not quite believing the sheer size of the Red Keep.

Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion had been rather surprised to see the ironwoman up so early; he had thought, on one level or another, that she'd be like her countrymen, and lost in hoggish slumber until late forenoon, if not early afternoon. To see her up, chipper and clearly ready to face the day had startled him, but not, he decided, in a bad way. He preferred people who could show moderation when allowed a free run at the wine casks.

He heard a soft sound behind him, and turned, to find himself facing Sansa Stark. The Stark girl looked like a hunted animal to him, but then, she always looked that way after her betrayal by Joffrey. Tyrion felt a moment's fury at his nephew. _Couldn't the spoilt, arrogant brat __appreciate __this beauty and __protect__ her vulnerability, instead of venting his rage on her whenever he got the urge?_ Keeping a smile on his face, he greeted her: "Good morrow, Lady Sansa. I hope you slept well?"

Sansa Stark bowed politely. She was always polite. Tyrion had had little to do with her missing younger sister, Arya, but from what he had seen, the sisters were as different as night and day. "Good morrow, Lord Tyrion. Yes, I slept as well as usual."

Tyrion did not miss exactly how she had phrased that answer. He wondered if she was having trouble sleeping, and made a mental note to have a maester look her over; preferably one who was unthreatening enough that she might open up to him. He didn't like looking into her eyes, himself. Her face was still and serene, but her eyes…a look into them revealed a whole universe of sorrow and loss. Tyrion was by no means the most compassionate man in Kings Landing, but he bled inside at what this innocent girl had been through, largely, to his shame, at the hands of his own kin.

"Have you seen my fiance?" asked Sansa. She glanced around, fear in her eyes.

"If you mean my nephew, my lady, I haven't seen him yet today. Is there some reason you wish audience with His Majesty?" While Tyrion privately thought his nephew wasn't fit to clean privies, he was, at least in title, King, and he was generally careful to refer to him with appropriate respect. _Bow to the office, not the man_, was one of his father's maxims, and his father had survived years as the Mad King's Hand.

"No…no! I just…" Sansa stopped, clearly at a loss.

Tyrion was able to fill in what she wanted to say, without any effort. _Her lessons in ladylike behavior didn't include anything on what to do if you're an unwanted fiancee of a royal brat who's bidding fair to be the next Mad King, as well as the sister and daughter of "traitors!"_ He tried to ease things for her. "Today His Majesty is going to be spending most of the day in the tiltyard, practicing with arms. Are the ladies planning to be practicing their needlework? Maybe you should join them?

"Yes! Yes, I will. Thank you, my lord!" With that, Sansa ran off, reminding Tyrion of a mouse in a cat-infested house. He was reminded of his lost Tysha for a second, and shook with the urge to grip his nephew by the throat and throttle him till his face turned purple.

Asha Greyjoy

Asha had found a lovely courtyard, and sat down on a bench in the sun to enjoy the day. She liked the climate here much better than the Iron Islands' cold, grey mists. Sitting back, she tilted her face toward the sun, smiling and closing her eyes. It was very pleasant.

After a few minutes, she felt herself being observed, and cracked open one eye to find herself being carefully scrutinized by two golden-haired children; a girl and a younger, rather plump boy. "Good morning…I can't say I've had the pleasure?"

The children bowed and curtsied respectively. "I am Princess Myrcella, and this is my brother, Prince Tommen. We're the younger sister and brother of the King." _Aha!_ Asha had thought they looked familiar, and she now could easily see the strong resemblance they had to their mother and elder brother.

Getting to her feet, Asha bowed back. "I am honored to meet you. My name is Asha Greyjoy. I am the daughter of Balon Greyjoy, lord of the Iron Islands, and his representative here at the royal court. I am also the captain of the _Black Wind_ longship. You may have seen us coming into harbor."

"You're a ship captain?" Both children's eyes went very wide. "That must be very interesting! Where have you gone? Have you ever been to Braavos? Is it dangerous?"

Asha smiled. "Yes, I'm a ship's captain. There's a saying in the Iron Islands that 'every captain is a king on his own ship.' Or 'her own ship,' in my case. It's interesting, and it can be very dangerous. And I've been to many places, and yes, that does include Braavos. Would you like to hear about my travels?"

Both children nodded, looking up at her in wonder. Asha sat back on the bench, closing her eyes and summoning up memories suitable for recounting to young children. "Well…on my first trip off the Iron Islands, when I was not much older than _you_ are…"

_Tyrion Lannister_

Tyrion had been able to keep fairly close track of Asha Greyjoy's wanderings through the castle, thanks to the servants, who were happy to tell him when and where they had seen the ironwoman passing by. She had been fairly systematic, exploring the main floor as thoroughly as she was allowed to.

In the throne room, she had paused below the Iron Throne, looking up at it for a long time, her expression unreadable. Tyrion wondered what she had been thinking. Tyrion himself privately thought that had he been in King Robert's boots, he would have commissioned a different throne; the Iron Throne was a Targaryen idea, and the Targaryens had all had a streak of madness.

Tyrion grinned to himself. Had his father led the rebellion, they'd have had a Golden Throne, if Tyrion knew his father. _Tywin Lannister would never, never have condescended to sit his exalted rump on a throne contaminated by any lesser family_! He thought about suggesting the idea to his sweet sister and nephew; having them working on designing a throne suitable for the exalted arse of Joffrey the First would at least keep them out of his hair.

Tyrion hadn't been Hand for very long, and he could clearly see that he had a great deal to do. Unfortunately, while Joffrey at least left the Small Council alone to do its work, Cersei attended meetings and couldn't resist putting her oar in. She combined utter incapacity for ruling, on a level that made her late husband look like a perfect king, with utter assurance that she knew everything and nobody else was fit to clean her privy. Between having her around and some of the other people on the Small Council, even without the various rebellious factions, the kingdom was in trouble.

Tyrion sighed, and went out to a small courtyard that he favored when he wanted to think. It wasn't much frequented, and he could be alone there, which suited him. He knew what he looked like…how could he not? But he didn't care for people looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, or muttering "Imp," "halfman," or "freak" as he walked by.

When he got to his courtyard, he found that, unusually, it wasn't empty. The ironwoman Asha was out there, and she had apparently made friends with his other nephew and his niece! They were hanging on her words, wide-eyed, as she told them a tale:

"…And then, Harlaw the Horrible strode forward on the deck, yelling 'Out of my way!' as he readied his harpoon. The sea monster roared in pain as Harlaw threw his deadly spear, piercing it through the heart. The storm raged on as the ship shook with the fury of the waves, but the terrible sea monster was dying. His crew shouted their approval, and leaped to the attack. Soon the dread beast that had sunk so many longships was dead, and the crew began to cut it up and flense it…"

Tyrion listened for a few minutes, hugely amused, before clearing his throat. Tommen and Myrcella turned, their eyes widening with joy to see their uncle. Unlike their horrible older brother, they had always liked and gotten on well with Tyrion, not least, Tyrion thought, because he was about their size.

"Uncle Tyrion!"

"Uncle Tyrion! Look what _we_ found!"

"She's an _ironwoman_, from the _Iron Islands_! We never met one before! She has _her own ship_! When I grow up, _I_ want to have a ship, and have adventures, too!" Tyrion's eyes went wide. He pictured Cersei's reaction to her sweet daughter's wish to become a sea captain, and suppressed laughter with main force. Cersei would shit herself sideways!

Lady Asha got up, looking slightly sheepish. Blushing, she bowed. "Terribly sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to lead your nephew and niece astray, but they were so eager to hear about the islands, I thought I'd tell them a story or two from the old days there."

"No problem, my lady. I'm glad to see you get on with them so well. However, Myrcella, Tommen, I do think it's about time for your lessons. Say farewell for now to Lady Asha…and don't pout, she'll be around for some time, so you'll get to talk to her again…and go find your tutors, please." If it had been Joffrey, this would have been the signal for a spectacular battle of wills, but Tommen and Myrcella were both good, biddable children. They politely bade Lady Asha goodbye, thanking her for telling them a story, and ran off to find their tutors.

"So, Lord Tyrion. At last, we're alone. Tell me, what is the real situation here in Kings Landing?" Humor and intelligence gleamed in Lady Asha's dark eyes, which Tyrion found hugely appealing. He tamped down a truthful answer with an effort.

_My sister and oldest nephew are running the kingdom into the ground, the smallfolk are starving and likely to riot sooner or later, we've got three rebel armies outside our walls who'll come a-knocking to be let in sooner or later, and we're all likely to end up with our heads on spikes… _"Complicated, my lady, complicated. You may find yourself wishing you were dealing with sea monsters instead of this before you're through."


	4. Chapter 4

The Kraken and the Lion, Chapter 04

by Technomad

_Asha Greyjoy_

Asha smiled broadly as she felt the deck heel and the ship surge forward. She was ironborn, and no ironborn ever was happy too long away from the sea. The rhythm of the oarsmen could be felt, and the sail was just beginning to catch the wind.

_Bold Wind_ was just coming out of the harbor of Kings Landing, on a quick in-and-out voyage. Asha had hinted to Lord Tyrion that she and her men would be very interested professionally in a trip aboard a royal dromond, and Tyrion had been happy to arrange it. The sea breeze smelled wonderful, with none of the fetor she associated with Kings Landing.

With the professional part of her mind, the part that did not sleep whenever she was on or near a ship, Asha was making mental notes. While the negotiations between herself and the royal court had been going well, there was no harm in preparing for all eventualities, was there now? And if she saw that the royal dromonds had a few wrinkles that her own people hadn't thought of, then adding them might make her _Black Wind_ a better longship, which wouldn't hurt anything, either.

Her crew were also enjoying themselves. They called encouragement to the oarsmen, and compared the rowing style to that used aboard longships.

"They have several men on each oar here. On a longship, we have one man to an oar." That was Lorren Longaxe.

"The sail plan's completely different from a longship. How _do_ they handle all those extra sails?" Droopeye Dale was looking up suspiciously. "On a longship, we just have the one big sail."

"That's so that we can trim the sails to what we need, instead of just having the one choice," explained the captain, one Sandor Lannis. He ran his fingers through his dark-blond hair, enjoying the chance to explain things to fellow professionals. "In a stiff wind, we just have the tops'ls up, while if there's almost no wind, we raise the mains, which are a lot bigger. The mains'ls would be much too much for a real gale. We can keep way on in a storm, instead of drifting before the wind or having our masts blown to pieces."

Asha nodded, as did several of her crew. That made excellent sense. Asha began visualizing just how a longship might be re-rigged to take advantage of this concept. Much as she loved her homeland and her people, she had to admit that in some ways they were hidebound and stuck in the past.

The _Bold Wind_ heeled as the captain called "Helm a-lee!" and the dromond turned. By then, they were well out of the harbor, and Asha could hear the oar captain calling the oarsmen to pull their oars in, because the ship was now under sail exclusively. She danced along, and Asha felt a moment's keen envy.

While the dromond was not as manouverable as a longship, and drew more water so that she couldn't go into water as shallow, out on the open sea, she was very hard to equal. Asha could now easily see how King Robert had defeated her father so easily, back in the days of Greyjoy's Rebellion.

_Before we try __anything__ like that again, I __want some of these ships__!_ Asha kept that thought firmly off her face, concentrating on looking pleasant as the captain, standing beside her, pointed out landmarks on shore. He was quite plainly interested in her, but she had no interest in him; she had heard that he had two mistresses on shore already, and she was not at all keen on being Number Three in his affections.

Asha Greyjoy was not a virgin, and enjoyed male company by night, but she did expect to be the main woman in her man's life. Being one of a string did not appeal.

For some reason, she thought about Tyrion Lannister. He was easily the ugliest man she had ever seen in her life, and yet he fascinated her. They had taken to eating lunches together, and she found him an endless mine of information…about Kings Landing, the Lannister lands and House, and many other subjects. Every bit of knowledge he let drop she soaked up, and wrote down as quickly as she could in the compressed code the Greyjoys used when they didn't want people reading what they wrote.

The more she learned about the situation in Kings Landing, and the war in general, the more she thought that the Baratheon/Lannister faction needed the Greyjoys more than the Greyjoys needed them. Kings Landing itself was not under siege, but the war had badly disrupted the city's usual supply routes, and the people were on the verge of starving.

Her men had gone out into the city, in groups of two or three, and listened carefully to the talk in taverns, at least those that still had supplies to be open with. There was considerable ill-feeling in the city; people were openly comparing the current regime with the reign of King Robert, or even the Targaryens, and very few people were willing to say that things were, or would get, better.

King Joffrey himself got little blame; people were willing to make excuses for him. He was young, and had no power of his own; he was surrounded by evil counselors. That had been what Six-toed Harl had reported, after coming back from a tour of Flea Bottom's finer sinks of depravity.

"They say that it's the Imp's fault. Before he was here, they say, things went well. Then he came, and good King Robert died, and things went to pieces fast." Six-toed Harl had been nursing a colossal shiner; he and Cromm had been drinking and minding their own business when some of the local tough types had decided to "see what these ironmen are made of." The Goldcloaks had hauled them back to the Red Keep after breaking up the ensuing brawl. Asha was quite proud that her men had given a lot better than they had received. _They weren't called "ironborn" for nothing_, she thought.

"And Queen Cersei's not making things better. The smallfolk don't think she's any friend of theirs, and the women told me that her arrogance is legendary." That was Hagen the Horn's daughter. She flipped her red hair back. "As a woman, I can go where men aren't welcome, and what I heard where I went…the women's side of the bath houses, and places like that…makes me think that this city's going to erupt. They don't like the high price of food. Many of them say that they're not sure whether they can feed their families, no matter how much money they have. Money doesn't help if there's no food in the markets."

The _Bold Wind_ came about again, heading for home. Sandor Lannis explained: "By order of the King's Hand, our fleet's to stick close by. Stannis Baratheon's got a fleet of his own, and may be planning an attack by water." Asha nodded, thinking _In __that__ situation, ironborn would seek out the enemy's fleet and attack it first!_

Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion was standing by the quays when the _Bold Wind_ came in to harbor. Across the water, he could hear Asha Greyjoy's happy laugh, and he smiled to himself. When the ironwoman had come to him to ask if she and her crew could pay a friendly visit to the royal navy, he had been delighted to expedite it.

When the _Bold Wind_ was made fast and the gangplanks lowered, Asha bounced off and straight up to him, with her crew right behind her. Before he knew what was happening, she had bent down and given him a big kiss. "Thank you, thank you, my lord! I missed that more than I had realized! And your ships are so different…I thought we ironborn knew all there was to know about ships, but I see that we still have much to learn!"

Her crew whooped approval of her gesture. "_Who-o-a-a-h_! Our captain sees something she likes! Will you make him a salt-husband?" called one of them. They all laughed and laughed, and Asha turned on them with fire in their eyes. At the look on her face, they shut right up, quailing like schoolchildren in the presence of a strict master.

"_That_ part of my life is no concern of yours, and you would do well to remember it. Remember the _last_ man who tried taking _liberties_ with me?" Her voice was calm…deadly calm…and even, but her crew went pale.

"No, my lady. Sorry, my lady. We forgot, my lady." With that, the crew went on back toward the Red Keep, leaving Tyrion and Asha alone on the quay except for Tyrion's guards. Gulls flew around them, their keening loud in the sudden quiet.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I shouldn't have taken such a liberty," Asha finally said. Tyrion looked at her quizzically with his mismatched eyes.

"That sort of liberty you can take whenever you want, Lady Asha…but I'd prefer it be in private."

The more Tyrion Lannister saw of the ironwoman captain, the more he liked what he saw. She wasn't a raving beauty, but after growing up with Cersei, Tyrion was by no means susceptible to beauty by itself. She was highly intelligent, and, like him, a misfit in her society. Ironmen no less than most other people saw women mainly as creatures fit to stay home and breed babies, not to captain ships and lead men into battle. And still, she did it, and from what Tyrion could tell, her crew would have cheerfully laid down their lives for her. And she for them.

Tyrion envied her passionately. His lady was a whore, his right-hand man a sellsword who'd cheerfully sell him out for a better offer, and he, himself was one of the most hated men in Kings Landing, even though he had done all he could to try to re-victual the city. Many people just couldn't see past his appearance.

"Will you walk with me, back up to the Red Keep?" Asha fell in beside him, courteously keeping pace with him, as they went back up to the castle. Around them, her crew and his mountain clansmen automatically went into formation, keeping potential ill-wishers at a distance. _In Lannisport_, Tyrion thought bitterly, _at least I could walk the streets without fearing assassination attempts!_

"I got a raven from Pyke," Asha remarked. "My father seems to be quite open to an alliance between the Iron Islands and your…faction. However, I think he wants to be recognized as an independent monarch on his own, instead of bowing the knee to a king clear across Westeros."

Tyrion chewed that idea over. "If your people agreed to leave Westeros _alone_, and raid elsewhere if you must raid, I don't see why that couldn't be done. I'd have to broach the idea to my lord father, and get his permission, though. He's the real Hand; I'm just standing in for him while he takes care of business elsewhere."

Arya quirked a grin. "We remember Balon's War, my lord. We're not stupid. And right now, we're raiding up in the north. Hitting at your enemies suits your lord father's book, I think. At least, from what I know of your lord father."

Tyrion had to agree. "An alliance between our peoples would suit everybody, I think. As I've said, we have things to offer each other." He grinned back at her. "And your people might be surprised at how much easier it is to gather wealth when you're working with your neighbors, instead of against all of them. Particularly when you're not numerous, and stuck on islands that your neighbors can reach."

Tyrion remembered the maps he had seen. The Iron Islands were not far from Lannisport, and the Lannisters had a powerful fleet of their own. However, not having to worry about ironmen raiders would free up a lot of their ships, both to re-victual Kings Landing, and to hit at their enemies elsewhere. Sea power could decide this war, for all that many of their enemies' strongholds were well inland.

When they got to the Red Keep, they parted company, and Tyrion waddled off to the chamber where the Small Council met; there was a meeting scheduled. When he got there, he saw Cersei, as well as Littlefinger, Pycelle, and Slynt; Varys was nowhere to be seen.

"So glad you could join us," Cersei sneered, as he took his place. "Or was canoodling with that barbarian woman more important to you?"

"We have received an important raven from your lord father," Pycelle said. "It concerns you directly. Would you like to read it?"

"Why, yes, I would, at that," Tyrion drawled. Pycelle handed it over, and Tyrion read:

_To Her Grace the Queen Regent and the Small Council, greetings from Lord Tywin Lannister. The information I am receiving about conditions in Kings Landing is disturbing to me, and I would have them ameliorated __at once__. One part of good lordship is seeing to it that the smallfolk are prosperous; our own prosperity depends ultimately on theirs._

The Lord of Pyke has declared to me that he would like to take up the mantle of independent monarchy again, and I am not averse to this in exchange for his continued goodwill. The ironmen have raided the North repeatedly, and keeping them on our side is well worth allowing him to wear the Driftwood Crown.

Greyjoy has also expressed interest in a marital alliance between our Houses, and I am inclined to agree. He himself is married, but his wife is failing, and we could wait until after her death and match the Queen Regent to him. However, that is by no means a certainty, and I would like to nail down this alliance as expeditiously as possible.

_ Ser Jaime may not marry, but Tyrion is unmarried, and by happy coincidence, Greyjoy's daughter is not only unmarried, but in Kings Landing. We are seriously considering a match between Tyrion and Lady Asha. _

_Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Lannisport_

Tyrion felt a little like the rug had been yanked out from under his feet. His eyes went very wide, and he sat down in the nearest chair, reading the letter over again. This was unexpected, to say the least. His father had never spoken of marrying him off, even though as a Lannister, he was by no means ineligible, dwarf or no dwarf. And it had never even occurred to him that Asha Greyjoy could be a potential match.

The more he thought about it, though, the more he liked the idea. Unlike many women he met, Asha didn't seem to be repulsed by him physically. And she was one of the more intelligent people he had seen in his life, which had its own attractions. Having a companion he could talk about things to, and be understood…he suddenly felt a wave of longing.

And Asha herself was by no means an unattractive woman. She was by no means the beauty that Cersei was, but that didn't bother Tyrion one bit. Not only that, but she had strengths and skills that Tyrion himself lacked, and he could see them making a very formidable team.

Tyrion raised his eyes from the paper, to see Cersei looking at him with cruel amusement in her huge green eyes. "So, Tyrion," she purred, "it looks very like our lord father wants to pack you off to Pyke." She gave him a carnivorous smile. "You know how devastated I'll be to lose you."

"As devastated as I would be to lose you, were it you being proposed for that alliance," Tyrion replied politely. Privately, though, he wanted to go find Asha and let her know what was in the wind, before someone sprung it on her.

END Chapter 04


	5. Chapter 5

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 05

by Technomad

Asha Greyjoy

When Asha heard about Lord Tywin's idea, she was so startled that she had to sit down for a few minutes.

She had always expected to marry one day, but she had not expected that day to come quite so soon. She had not looked forward to losing her freedom; an ironborn husband would expect her to stay home and bear his babies, and she would have to give up her captaincy of the _Black Wind_. But this proposed match was a different matter entirely.

Lord Tyrion was, to put it mildly, not ironborn. He would not expect her to comport herself as a normal ironborn lady; he apparently thought the better of her for her independence and successful command of a longship. _That _was a refreshing change. She would never willingly give over her ship as long as she was physically capable of exercising command. There was no feeling so wild and free as the one she got on the deck of the _Black Wind_, with the sail bellying out with wind, the wild sea before her and a world of possibility ahead.

_And this match has other advantages_, she thought. Lord Tyrion was a Lannister, and that meant rich. The Iron Islands were poor, and while Asha had learned to live with that, she couldn't help but sometimes feel helpless envy when she compared the hard lives her countrymen led with the soft, easy life of others. As the wife of a Lannister, she could tap into the family fortune. A Lannister always pays his, or her, debts. She could buy her nuncle Rodrik the Reader all the books he wanted, and give her father the financial backing to make the Iron Islands a better place to live. Not to mention the ideas she had had for improving her longship after her trip aboard the royal dromond…

Of course, it would mean living with, and sleeping with, Lord Tyrion. To Asha's great surprise, she found that idea not as repulsive as she would have expected. Lord Tyrion was very odd-looking, but his brilliant mind and sparkling wit made up for a great deal. "Most of a good marriage is conversation," her nuncle Rodrik had said to her once, and she had had many very interesting talks with Lord Tyrion. He knew many fascinating things, and never minded explaining things to her if what he said went over her head. He also did not seem to think she was automatically inferior because she was a woman.

That, alone, put him head-and-shoulders over every other man she had ever met. Lord Tyrion judged her on what she could do, not whether she had to squat when she peed. She had had a little trouble getting her mind around the concept of a man seeing her as an equal, and she still had times when she could hardly believe it.

Plus, the match had distinct political advantages. Once she, as the daughter of the Lord, or King, of the Iron Islands, was married into the Lannisters, the Lannisters would be obliged to support the Iron Islands. And the Iron Islands' fleet of longships would be very useful to the Lannisters; they had a fleet of their own, but in Asha's unbiassed opinion, there was no sailor anywhere that was a tenth as good as any ironborn.

As she was ruminating, a knock came on the door. "My lady?" came Lord Tyrion's voice. "May I come in?"

Tyrion Lannister

He found himself unexpectedly feeling shy. He and the ironwoman had had many interesting conversations, often over shared dinners…but this was a different situation entirely.

Tyrion Lannister did not lack experience with women, but after his horrible experience with Tysha, he had not thought about marriage, Lannister though he was. Whores, he could deal with, and did quite well with in his own unbiassed opinion, partly because he never forgot that they were human beings just like he was. A potential wife? A potential wife from somewhere as outside his usual experience as the Iron Islands? That was another kettle of fish!

"Come in," he heard Lady Asha's voice. He entered, to find her sitting, staring into space, a letter open on her lap. "I take it this is about our fathers' little scheme to wed us?"

"Yes, it is." Tyrion was very grateful that she was being straightforward, instead of coy and hesitant. He had never liked coyness and hesitancy in a woman; it was very difficult to distinguish either from honest revulsion at his form, and he had had enough of _that_ to last him a lifetime. Since she was being straightforward, he decided he should be as well. "How do you feel about it, my lady?"

Asha gave him a long look, frankly evaluating what she saw. "To be honest, my lord, this is unexpected. A member of your almighty family, marrying an ironborn reaver? Won't your ancestors turn in their coffins?"

Tyrion grinned. "For what it's worth, my lady, many of my ancestors were reavers and thieves on a scale that makes your most rapacious raiders look like so many High Septons." He pulled up a chair and sat down, close but not too close. "We were just more successful. Living on top of gold mines does make it easier."

"Even so." Asha visibly put that question aside; it was, after all, mainly a political match. "In the Islands, we worship the Drowned God. I was drowned as a girl myself…"

"_Drowned_?" Tyrion stared openly. As far as he knew, drowning was fatal.

"Yes, drowned…and revived. It's a religious rite. _Most_ people who go through it survive. My nuncle the Damphair…he's a priest of the Drowned God…did it for me. Most women don't do it, but I've always been different." She gave him a smile, and her handsome face suddenly was a thing of beauty.

"I can understand being different, my lady," Tyrion answered, grinning at her. "However, I think I'll stick with my old familiar Seven Gods. Would that be a problem?"

Asha visibly thought about it. "Not likely to be. We do have our fanatics, and I'm sure you have yours…"

"The Poor Fellows and Warrior's Sons are long gone, my lady, and they'll never, ever be back." Privately, Tyrion hoped that would stay the truth. Unlike his ignorant siblings, Tyrion had read very deeply in history, and the Poor Fellows and Warrior's Sons had given even the Targaryens, with their dragons, a lot of very serious trouble. If some fool were to manage to revive them, or something like them, they could do incredible amounts of damage, particularly in these war-torn times. However, that was highly unlikely. Nobody could be insane enough to want the Swords and Stars back wreaking havoc where ever they went.

"But we do acknowledge that others have their own ways," Asha continued. "The Drowned God is a god for ironborn, not outsiders. I don't think that would be much of an objection to the match. And there have been marriages between ironborn and non-ironborn before."

"Excellent!" Tyrion smiled broadly. "Now, on to personal matters. Do you have…personal objections…to marrying me?" He felt rather frightened; he seldom let his guard down so completely. Not even with Shae. He waited, with bated breath, for her answer.

Asha laughed, startling him. "My lord…compared to some of the men I've met on the Iron Islands, you're as handsome as any hero out of legend!" Then she gave him a remarkably lewd grin. "And I've heard that dwarves make up for their short stature in…_other_ ways." She ran her tongue over her lips, and Tyrion felt an uncomfortable stirring in his loins.

"I can't speak for other dwarves, my lady, but I can say truthfully that I've had no complaints from my partners." And Tyrion suddenly wondered what Shae would think. She was a whore, but she was still a human being, and she seemed to honestly like him, over and above what he paid her to be his mistress. _Would she be upset? For that matter, would she care? Or would she cheerfully accept a generous severance payment? Or could he even keep her on? _

That thought led, inevitably, to _Do I __want to__?_ He looked at Asha closely. She was, physically, very appealing…not classically beautiful, but after knowing Cersei so well for so long, Tyrion was by no means one to be attracted to beauty alone. Asha was also highly intelligent, and had a sideways viewpoint that appealed to him strongly. He could easily see himself being so content with this woman as his wife that other women would lose their appeal. He had little, he supposed, in common with his brother Jaime, but one thing they seemed to share was a disinclination to hop from woman to woman to woman. With his dazzling good looks, not to mention his name, Jaime could have cut an incredible swath through the ladies, white cloak or no. Instead, as far as Tyrion knew, he had only ever slept with Cersei. Personally, even were she not his sister, Tyrion would have preferred kissing a viper.

Tyrion slipped out of his chair, going to one knee before a surprised-looking Asha. "My lady…would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He took her hand in both of his, looking up into her dark eyes, wondering what her answer would be. "I would only marry a woman who wanted to marry me." And until that moment, he had thought that no such woman existed.

Asha looked at him, her expression unreadable. "My lord…I think I would rather marry you than any man I have ever met." And with those words, Tyrion Lannister's heart filled with joy such as he had never thought to experience. Asha pulled him to his feet, and then into her arms. "Come…let us seal this bargain properly!" Before Tyrion quite knew what was happening, he and Asha were kissing passionately.

Asha Greyjoy

Asha had never kissed a dwarf before, and she was surprised at how well Lord Tyrion kissed. _If he's as skilled in bed as he is at this, I'll be a fortunate wife indeed!_ she thought. She had talked with enough women whose husbands were duds in bed to want to avoid that fate. While Bed was by no means all there was to a marriage, it was, in her view, an essential ingredient.

She felt her body beginning to respond in a very decided way to Tyrion, and pulled away; it would not do for them to be caught rutting on the floor like a couple of thralls. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Asha could feel her nipples rubbing against the inside of her shirt. If this was what a quick smooch session could do, Asha was definitely looking forward to her wedding night!

Just then, the door opened, and that mincing eunuch, Varys, came in, with the Queen just behind him. "Well? What is your answer, Lady Asha?" The Queen's eyes were full of contempt; in other words, she looked no different from any other time she was near her brother. "I hope you haven't disappointed our father yet again, Tyrion."

"As it happens, Your Grace, I am most _honored_ to be my lord Tyrion's chosen bride," Asha answered, rising to her full height and staring the Queen in the eye. Something told Asha that after the wedding, she and this woman were going to have to have it out, woman-to-woman.

Lord Tyrion stood, and took her hand in his. "No, my lady. It is _I_ who am honored, to have such a one as _you_ as my fiancee." Asha's eyes went wide. Such gallantry toward a woman was unheard of on the Iron Islands! _I am not letting this man get away! He's __mine_! "Please send a raven to our father, Cersei, and tell him that the match is on."

The expression on the Queen's face reminded Asha of a just-landed fish. She gaped at Lord Tyrion and Asha as though they were both ghosts, or the Others she had heard of north of the Wall.

END Chapter 05


	6. Chapter 6

The Kraken and the Lion, Chapter Six

by Technomad

_Tyrion Lannister_

"You're getting married, my lord?" Shae gave Tyrion an unreadable look. "I'd heard rumors, but wasn't sure whether to believe them."

"Yes, Shae, I am. And that means our time together has come to an end." Tyrion sat down, feeling very sad. Shae was a prostitute, and at the bottom of the social pecking order, but she'd been good to him. She gave excellent value for money, and he had no complaints whatsoever about her.

Shae raised one eyebrow. "That's odd. Many men wouldn't let marriage get in the way of keeping a girl on the side." She grinned suddenly. "You could say that for _us_, married men are our bread and butter."

"Yes, Shae, but I'm not 'most men.' You may have noticed that." Tyrion grinned suddenly, inviting her to look carefully at him. "And I took more than enough risks keeping you here in Kings Landing. If my lord father found out about you…he'd _take steps_. And it wouldn't be one little bit pleasant for you. Not to mention what my new bride might do."

"_Oh?_ What might she do? _Cry?_ Throw _wine glasses_ at me? Try to claw my eyes out? Pull my hair?" Shae laughed contemptously. "No offense meant, my lord, but I grew up gutter. I can handle myself in a fight, with room to spare."

"She'd be likelier to cleave your skull in two with one of her axes," Tyrion answered, as Shae gaped at him.

"Axes?"

"Oh, yes. Didn't the rumors you heard include that tidbit? She's Lady Asha Greyjoy, and she's an ironwoman. She's a reaver in her own right, and commands a ship full of ironmen. She practices regularly with my mountain clansmen, along with her crew, and she holds her own. Any woman who can make Shagga son of Dolf…you _do_ remember him?….respect her is no slouch in a fight."

"She spars with _Shagga_?" Asha's eyes grew very wide. "And…holds her own?"

"Yes, she does. Still think you want to get into a nice little girl-fight with her?" Shae shook her head, hard. She had seen more than enough of Shagga to know that while the mountaineer was barbaric and crude, he was a very formidable fighter. "Good. Now that _that's _settled, we can get on to figuring out your next move. Do you have any preferences of your own, Shae?"

"Me?" Shae was gobsmacked. She had never had a client of hers ask what she wanted. "Well, I don't know, but a nice new arrangement with someone who'll treat me decently would be wonderful. One thing I really liked about my time with you was that you were always decent to me."

"Thank you, Shae," Tyrion said, quite touched. He felt sad for Shae…to think that a girl had such a lousy life that just decent treatment was a pleasant change! "I wonder how you'd feel about my right-hand swordsman, Bronn? He brought you to me originally, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Shae dimpled. "As for how I'd feel about being his leman instead of yours, I'd be willing enough. Have you talked to him about it?"

"I haven't, yet, but I don't think he'd mind taking you under his wing. I pay him well for his services, so that should be no problem. And he'll treat you well." Tyrion suddenly grinned unpleasantly. "Or he'll answer to _me_. _And_ Shagga. _And_ Cheyk. _And_ Timmett son of Timmett."

Shae shuddered. She knew all the mountain clansmen that followed her now ex-leman, and while they were all scary, Timmett son of Timmett gave her the shivering creeps. When she thought about what a man who was willing to burn his own eye out just to win power in his own tribe might be capable of, she gave devout thanks to the Seven, even though she was not normally at all religious, that he had never been one of her clients. Like other women in her profession, she knew she took risks, but she drew the line at servicing an obvious madman. She'd almost sooner have risked Gregor Clegane's bed.

"So this is how it ends," Shae mused. She looked over at Tyrion, and smiled. "I'd offer you a goodbye bout, but I think that you're already in love with that fiancee of yours. Is that it? Or is this just a matter of 'oh, how I love her…father's money!'"

Tyrion blushed. "To be honest, Shae, I find I do love her. She's everything I could want in a wife. For starters, she's nothing like my sister."

"That's a good start right there," Shae commented. While Tyrion did not normally confide much in her about his relations with his family, other than to warn her repeatedly about not ever coming to his pornaeophobic father's attention lest she wear a hempen neck-brace, she was streetwise and had quickly cultivated her own sources of information. Servants were everywhere, and they heard things…and many nobles tended to forget that each servant had two ears, and a brain between them.

"And," Tyrion went on, "even without that sort of thing, she's still a good alliance for my family. And one thing that we nobles have to take into account is that our marriages often have at least as much to do with politics as anything else."

"I've known that all my life." Shae had never heard of a nobleman so insane as to marry for love, other than Tyrion, his first time around…and hadn't _that_ turned into a nightmare? Other than Tyrion, she knew that noble marriages were always arranged with a sharp eye on their political effect. Without that, she didn't think that Queen Cersei and King Robert of blessed memory would have married, or stayed together as long as they had.

"So it's settled? If Bronn's agreeable, he can take over your upkeep, and you'll always have my goodwill. A Lannister always pays his debts." Tyrion rose, and offered her his hand, man-style.

Shae stood as well, and they shook hands in agreement. As Tyrion turned to go, Shae thought she saw tears starting in his eyes. She shook her head. _No doubt this blurriness I'm getting is because there's dust in the air…_

_Asha Greyjoy_

When Asha's crew heard the news about her upcoming nuptials, they whooped with glee. They knew that a wedding meant a big party, with food, drink, and lots of opportunities for fun. They also were delighted when they heard who she was marrying.

"Will he be a rock husband or a salt husband?" The merriment stopped when Asha fixed them all with her "captain's" eye. They suddenly remembered who they were, and who she was. As a Greyjoy, she was near to the top of the social scale on the Iron Islands. And she had more than earned their respect in the years she had commanded the Black Wind.

"He'll be my husband. That's all you need to know." Asha suddenly smiled. "And, yes, you're all invited to the wedding. I wouldn't want to be the only ironborn there."

That perked them on up. "We'll show these soft folk how to really have a party! Maybe we can teach some of them the finger dance!" Asha grinned to herself at the thought of her crew interacting with the stuffy nobles who seemed to populate the court. She thought that a lot of them could do with some loosening up.

She left them, merrily planning how they'd eat and drink their way through the party, and turned to go…and found herself confronting Qarl the Maid. Unlike the others in her crew, he was not delighted. Instead, he looked like he'd just heard his ship had sunk.

Asha felt terrible. She and Qarl had always been attracted to each other, but had never really acted on it; life at home wasn't conducive to privacy, and on shipboard, of course, there was no privacy at all. No more than there is here, she thought, looking around instinctively for the peepholes and listening holes that she knew had to be there. That horrible Varys creature knew too much about everything that went on at court for her taste. She had been warned repeatedly about his "little birds," and been told by several people that there were secret passages everywhere in the Red Keep that allowed his spies to find out whatever he needed to know to keep one jump ahead of everybody.

"Are you really getting married, Skipper?" asked Qarl.

Asha reached out and took his hands in hers. "Yes, Qarl. You and I always knew this day would come. For better or worse, I'm a Greyjoy, and you're the grandson of a thrall. If things were different…but they aren't, and can't be. It's nothing against you. I always knew I'd have to marry someday. And one day you'll find yourself a lovely rock wife and she'll make you forget I ever even existed."

"Can a rock wife from the Islands command a ship as well as you? Can she do 'men things' as well as you?" Qarl turned away for a second, before turning back to face her. "Part of what I always liked best about you, Skipper, was that even though you're a woman, you can do everything we men can do and do those things well. Most women bore me senseless…or beardless!" He stroked his hairless cheeks and gave her a mocking grin.

Asha grinned back. "For what it's worth, and I know it doesn't mean much to you now, I'll always treasure those words…and the times we did have together. And when we're all back in Pyke, I'll stir around and see if I can find you a woman who pleases you."

"Thank you, Skipper. You always look out for your crew _first_, and yourself _second_. A crewman can't ask for anything more." Qarl politely bowed and went on down the corridor, and Asha stared out the glazed window, not wanting to be around anybody until her tears stopped flowing. Even though she was delighted to be marrying Tyrion, she'd always have a little place in her heart for Qarl the Maid. If nothing else, he had paid her the highest compliment a crewman could make about his skipper.

Several days later, Asha was walking down a corridor with Tyrion toward the throne room, when they were suddenly jolted out of their focus on each other by a shrill scream. Both of them were suddenly on high alert, as were Tyrion's clansmen and Asha's crewmen, who had been escorting them down the hall.

"It's in the throne room, whatever it is! Come on! We've got to see what's gone wrong!" Tyrion suited his actions to his words, running off down toward the throne room as fast as his legs could carry him. Unfortunately, or otherwise, he couldn't run fast, and Bronn swept him up and carried him, as Asha and the others pelted on after Bronn.

When they got to the throne room, it took a few seconds for Asha to process what she was seeing. In the middle of the floor, Sansa Stark was crouching, wearing nothing but her stockings and shoes, trying futilely to protect her modesty with her hands, with the remains of her gown in shreds all around her. There were angry red weals all over her, shockingly red against her milk-white skin. Standing over her, King Joffrey raised a whip, and brought it down for another blow, as the Kingsguard stood, watching events unfold impassively. Sansa let out another piercing shriek: "Mercy, your Grace! Mercy!" The king grinned lecherously, and drew back for another blow.

"_What is the meaning of this?"_ barked Tyrion. "Have you gone mad, your Grace?" He strode forward, and anger made him seem taller and taller. Joffrey was taller than his uncle, and King, but he quailed as Tyrion snatched the whip from his hand. Tyrion threw it aside and wiped his hand on his tunic, as though he had touched something filthy. "The lady is your affianced bride! How dare you shame her in this way?" Then he remembered that Asha was there. "My lady Asha, could you please see to the Lady Sansa's needs?" He gestured. "At least get her something to cover herself! This is _indecent_!"

"I was punishing her! For her brother's treason!" Joffrey squealed, backing up the steps toward the Iron Throne, to get away from his outraged uncle.

"Her brother has been in rebellion for some time now, your Grace," Tyrion answered, making "your Grace" sound like the name of something horrible he'd stepped in on the street. "Has there been news that I haven't heard yet?"

"There has been news, from the North. Robb Stark won a great victory. There are reports that wolves fought on his side. His Grace was distraught at the news."

"As well he might be. Should the Starks take Kings Landing, his head will end up on a spike. Just like his mother, his brother and sister…and mine, let us not forget. I have no more wish for a Stark victory in this war than any man or woman in this court. But the Lady Sansa can have had no part in this debacle. Punishing the only person who could conceivably beg mercy for us all should the Starks win strikes me as foolish, as well as cruel and unreasonable."

Joffrey had reached the Iron Throne, and sat down in it…carefully. "I am the King! The King can do as he likes!"

Tyrion gave him a nasty grin. "Just like Mad King Aerys did. Did my brother, your Uncle Jaime, ever tell you just what happened to him?"

At this, there was a stir among the Kingsguard. "No man threatens the King in the presence of the Kingsguard!" One of them, bolder than the others, stepped forward.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Ser, I was not threatening the king, I was instructing my _dear_ nephew in the things he needs to know to live a long, full, happy life. Bronn, Shagga…the next time this man opens his mouth without my leave, kill him." The knight looked at Bronn and Shagga, who leered at him and fingered his axe, and shut right up. "_That_ was a _threat_. Do you see the difference?" Silence answered his question. "Good. Learn to master yourself, your Grace, or your reign shall be shorter than I am!"

Meanwhile, Asha and her one female crew member, Hagen's daughter Jinjur, were ministering to Sansa. Both women had yanked off their cloaks, and Sansa was wrapped up neatly, clutching the scratchy, coarse Iron Islands wool as though it were the finest silks and brocades. Once she saw that her ordeal was over, she burst into tears, and Jinjur held her close, letting her cry it out.

"Let's take her back to our quarters. Nobody will molest her there…_right_?" Asha gave her crew a hard look, but she had no worries. Many of them had daughters at home, and all of them were clearly as outraged as she herself was. She longed to have the lessoning of this spoiled, cowardly, arrogant princeling. _By the time __she__ was done with him, he'd be licking out the bilges on the _Black Wind_ if she said to! _

Lady Sansa couldn't walk, so Hagen picked her up in his arms, cradling her as though she were his own daughter. "My lord Tyrion, you must excuse us. We need to see to the lady's hurts, and get her some new clothes," Asha said, and signalled for her men to leave at Tyrion's nod of approval. As she herself left, she could have sworn she saw Tyrion wink at her.

END Chapter 06


	7. Chapter 7

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 07

Asha Greyjoy

When they got to the quarters set aside for the ironborn, Hagen lay Lady Sansa down on Asha's own bed. "Find me a maester, to tend to her hurts," Asha snapped, in her "captain's" voice, and several of her men leaped to obey. "Not you, Jinjur. You and I will stay with the lady until the maester has seen to her." Jinjur nodded, and sat down beside the bed.

Sansa seemed to be in shock, staring blankly at the ceiling and trembling. Asha pulled the warm blankets up around her. "It's all right, my lady. You're under our protection, and nobody will harm you." For emphasis, she pulled out one of her axes from her jacket, as Jinjur drew her sword. Sansa finally looked at them, or at least in their direction; she didn't seem to be focussing on them. Then her eyes closed, and she just lay there, shaking.

Jinjur and her captain shared a long look. Asha knew just what her crewwoman was thinking. If Joffrey had been fool enough to show his face, the ironwomen would have taken great pleasure in giving him the thrashing of his spoiled life. In the Iron Islands, nobody would have survived with an attitude like Joffrey's. Children were loved, yes, but they were also disciplined, and discipline could be very harsh.

The door creaked open cautiously, and Rolfe the Dwarf peered in. "Skipper? I brought one of Lady Sansa's maids. She's got some new clothes for the lady." Asha motioned him to come in, and he led a frightened-looking young woman in. The woman was carrying a bundle of clothing, and at Asha's gesture, she set it down on an empty chair.

"Thank you. You may go." The maid turned and scuttled out of the room, clearly relieved to be away from the wild ironmen. Asha's mouth quirked up on one side with amusement. Her people's reputation had its uses. She seriously doubted that the King's men would be at all eager to drag his "fiancee" forth, should he be incautious enough to order such a thing.

Rolfe the Dwarf was leaning over Sansa, who seemed to have either fallen asleep or fainted outright. "I have a daughter just about her age, back home," he muttered. He raised his hand, as to stroke her red hair, before remembering who this was and letting it fall. As he turned to go, he said, to nobody in particular, "If _any_ fiancee of my daughters' had treated her this way, I'd have his liver and lights for _fishbait_!" Jinjur smiled evilly, seconding that thought.

Asha looked approvingly after Rolfe after he had left. Her men were rough, there was no denying it. In the heat of battle, or while reaving, they could be ruthless and murderous. But they were still human, and none of them approved of this sort of thing. _And these people dare to call __us__ barbarians_! she thought scornfully.

The door tapped, and Asha heard Tyrion: "My lady? I brought a maester." At her gesture, Jinjur went to open the door, and Tyrion came in, with a man wearing a maester's robes trailing behind him. Tyrion raised an eyebrow at the sight of the clothes piled on the chair. "Ah. I see someone anticipated the lady's needs. The clothes she was wearing were beyond salvage." He bowed slightly toward the bed. "Your pardon, Lady Sansa. The maester would like to examine you." He went toward the door. "I shall be just outside, should I be needed for anything." He fingered the collar around his neck with its hand emblems, symbolic of his office as acting Hand of the King. "I doubt anybody will try to get past _me_."

Assured of privacy, the maester gently pulled down the blankets. Sansa had regained consciousness, and gave him a look of sheer terror before the sight of his maester's chain told her that he was harmless. She lay there stiffly, staring straight up at the ceiling, while the maester examined her. From the way the maester pursed his lips, Asha could tell that he was not too pleased at what he found. Under his direction, Jinjur rubbed ointment into the whip weals disfiguring Sansa's smooth white skin, as Sansa lay there, only a few slight winces and gasps betraying the fact that she was still in pain.

"Very well, my lady. Please, drink this. It'll soothe your pain and allow you to sleep. When you awaken, this will all seem like a bad dream." He offered her a cup filled with a sweet-smelling liquid.

Obediently, Sansa drank off the potion, which visibly hit her hard. Her eyelids fluttered, and she lay back down on the pillows. As she drifted off, Asha heard her mutter: "No, it _won't_, you silly man…" before a soft snore told her that Sansa was asleep. Jinjur pulled the covers up around her, tucking her in.

"I'll leave you on watch, Jinjur. I need to talk to Tyrion and the others." With that, Asha slipped out, to find Tyrion standing with Bronn just outside the door to her chamber.

"I've stationed my clansmen along the corridors," Tyrion said. "And I see that Lady Asha has done the same with her crew. That should be sufficient to assure Lady Sansa that she is safe. You may leave us, Maester. And I thank you for your service."

The maester bowed, and left. Once he was gone, Tyrion turned to Asha. "My lady, thank you for helping. I'm glad you were nearby; I really don't think that Lady Sansa would have welcomed male assistance, however kindly meant."

Asha looked around, uneasily. She knew that Varys had ways of finding out what was going on in the Red Keep. "Maybe we could get together someplace outside of here, for a private talk?"

Tyrion winked one of his mismatched eyes. "I see what you mean. A trip into town sounds like just the thing I'd like, too. There's an establishment I like on the Street of Silk." He grinned. "They offer privacy, as well as _other_ services. Many _engaged couples_ go there."

Asha's eyes went wide. Such sophistication was unknown on the Iron Islands. "Give me the address, my lord, and I'll be there." Inside, she grinned wickedly. She had always been curious about places like that, and this would be a chance to find out what they were really like!

Tyrion Lannister

Chataya's brothel was old familiar territory to Tyrion; he had met Shae there, many a time. He enjoyed the ambiance, not least because he knew that his pornaeophobic father would have a seizure to see his son in such a place. He sometimes wondered why his father had such a horror of whores.

That led to him wondering why his father had never remarried. It was Tyrion's private belief that his siblings would have turned out much better with a mother-figure in their lives, and between his father's position and his great wealth, he'd have been a target for every ambitious lady and her mother in the Kingdoms, and out of them. But as far as Tyrion could tell, Lord Tywin had never so much as touched a woman since the death of his wife.

Did he privately prefer boys, or men? Tyrion had thought that might be the case, but he'd never seen any signs of such a preference other than avoiding women.

At that point, Chataya made a signal, and Tyrion looked up to see Asha entering the room. He rose to greet her, smiling. "Welcome, my lady! I apologize for picking such a place, but as you know, the Red Keep is no place to discuss things. At least not if you want to keep your discussions private. Chataya, unlike Varys, knows well how to keep things that should stay secret secret…don't you, Chataya?"

Chataya bowed. "Yes, my lord. I beg leave to go. If you wish refreshments, you and your lady, you have only to ring the bell."

"You may go, Chataya." After the brothel madame had bowed and left, closing the door softly behind her, Tyrion showed Asha to a seat.

Asha grinned unabashedly. "My men talk of these places, but for obvious reasons, I've never been in one myself. If nothing else, Tyrion, being with you has been an educational experience."

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders. "I have found, Asha, that many 'respectable' ladies are actually consumed with curiosity about their 'fallen' sisters' lives. After we're done talking, you can go around and see the place. The rooms with mirrors on the ceiling are particularly interesting, as is the fountain of perfumes."

"Sex, in the Iron Islands, is in its infancy, I think." Asha squirmed up close and kissed Tyrion on his nose. "But that's not what we're here for, is it? Another thing a place like this offers is privacy."

"Too right," Tyrion answered, all good humor dropping like a discarded cloak. "Frankly, Asha, we're sitting on top of a potential disaster here in Kings Landing. The smallfolk are hungry, and resent the harsh justice in King Joffrey's courts. If one of the other contenders for the throne, such as Robb Stark or Stannis Baratheon, were to spread the rumor here that their victory would mean plentiful food, the smallfolk would likely rise up against us, and we couldn't hold the city."

"And all our heads would end up on spikes," Asha mused. "Mine, too, now that I've been publicly identified with you."

"Not to mention, my nephew Joffrey is less fit to sit the Iron Throne than anybody I know. He's spoiled, utterly unacquainted with the word 'no,' and well on his way to becoming a second Mad King. We had one of those, before Robert's Rebellion, and we really don't need another one."

"That explains how he was treating Lady Stark," Asha said, her expression going grim. "My men were furious about that. Any boy on the Islands who tried treating a girl that way would soon be on the receiving end of his father's whip, and her father's, as well, if the girl were ironborn and free. Even thralls are treated better!"

Tyrion made a mental note to inquire into what a "thrall" might be, but went on with his story. "I put a lot of blame on his mother. Cersei was always a cruel, hateful, spiteful creature. The only thing she ever really loved in all the world, I think, was our brother Jaime. If she'd been less of…whatever it is she is…she might have made a better success of her marriage to King Robert."

"Tyrion?" Asha gave her fiance a piercing look. "I had heard that King Robert was a big, black-bearded man. How is it that all his children look nothing like him?"

"Oh, King Robert had many children who looked like him. Unfortunately, none of them were Cersei's." Asha's eyes went very wide, as Tyrion went on: "Robert had many mistresses, some of them one-night stands, others on a more permanent basis. Sweet Cersei often tried to have those children killed, and their mothers. Even babes in arms."

"So, who was the father of Cersei's children?"

Tyrion grinned. "I've given you enough clues. You should be able to put it together. Let us just say that they were conceived by a very loving couple." To distract his fiancee, Tyrion changed the subject: "Do you think that your people can bring enough food to feed Kings Landing?"

Asha thought about it. "Last I heard, our ships were loading in Lannisport, and headed out to sea. The weather has been cooperative so far, but at sea, you always have to take potential dangers into account. My last raven on the subject was yesterday. I think, based on what I've been able to make a longship do, that they should arrive here in a couple of weeks."

"Excellent!" Tyrion was very pleased. "That'll be about the time I send my niece, Princess Myrcella, off to Dorne! If we can combine the events, with a gala farewell for my niece along with a food ration for everybody in Kings Landing and a promise of more to come, that'll do a lot to keep the scene serene!"

"Glad that's settled." Asha leaned closer to kiss Tyrion again. "And, you did say that engaged couples often use this place as a place to meet discreetly. I doubt that they do so just to talk. If we're creating a scandal, why not make it a real one?"

Tyrion smiled and slipped out of his tunic, as Asha unbuttoned her shirt. "A Lannister always pays his debts!"

END Chapter 07


	8. Chapter 8

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 08

by Technomad

Asha Greyjoy

While Asha was more at home on the deck of a longship than astride a horse, she could ride. She squirmed slightly, trying to find a more comfortable seat, as she rode out of the gates of the Red Keep along with the rest of the court, to see the Princess Myrcella off to Dorne.

It was a fine, clear day, good for sailing. Asha looked out at the sea, and wished that she and the _Black Wind_ were out there, instead of being trapped in this stinking, unhappy city.

She did not fail to notice that the smallfolk did not seem at all pleased to see their rulers up close. The mood on the streets as their cavalcade rode past was sullen at best, and nobody raised a single cheer as Joffrey went by.

Princess Myrcella smiled bravely as she rode along, while King Joffrey and Queen Cersei pretended not to notice the hostile looks they were getting. Their guards would keep the smallfolk from doing more than scowl…or so Asha hoped.

She was not the only ironborn present. She had several of her crew with her, but if things turned ugly, she had no illusions about her chances_. At least they don't hate us as personally as they do the court_, she thought. Even so, it was comforting to see Lorren Longaxe, looking as out of place on horseback as a septon in a brothel, watching the crowd carefully, while Qarl the Maid and Eerl Harlaw stared straight ahead and ostensibly paid the crowd no mind.

At the harborside itself, they had to wait for the High Septon to pronounce a blessing. On and on and on he droned, as Asha sat in her saddle and tried not to look too bored. _At least my nuncle the Damphair can get to the point! _She privately thought that introducing the High Septon to Aeron Greyjoy would be funny. However, she doubted that her humorless, fanatical uncle would find the sight of a priest too fat to walk in a starving city at all amusing.

Finally, the last benediction was pronounced, and Princess Myrcella boarded her ship. Asha approved strongly of how she behaved. Even though she knew that the little princess' heart was breaking inside her, she held her head high and did not shed one tear. Instead, she comforted her weeping younger brother, Tommen. The _Seaswift_ would be carrying her to Braavos, with escort from _King Robert's_ _Hammer, Lionstar, Bold Wind_ and _Lady Lyanna_. Once in Braavos, she would transfer to a Braavosi ship for the second leg of her voyage to Sunspear in Dorne.

Asha looked the _Seaswift_ over with a professional eye. She looked to be much faster than the usual war ship, and Tyrion had told her that the plan was, in the event of an attack, for the _Bold Wind_ to escort the _Seaswift_ away while the rest of the fleet engaged the enemy to allow the _Seaswift_ time to escape.

Personally, Asha was of the opinion that if they were that frightened of a move by Stannis Baratheon, having the princess travel to Dorne in a Braavosi ship all the way would have been a much better plan. However, she had not been included in the planning of the voyage; Tyrion had told her about it later, when they were resting from a bout of lovemaking.

"I told Varys, Littlefinger and Pycelle three different stories of where I was planning to place Myrcella," Tyrion had explained, lying on his side with his head on his hand and idly tracing patterns on Asha's bare belly. "When sweet Cersei came to me howling about the plan that Pycelle had been told, I knew he was in her pay…and I had him thrown into the black cells. After I had Shagga shave his beard with his axe."

Tyrion had told Asha that his sister was furious about the imprisonment of Pycelle. Ever since their engagement had been formalized, Cersei had been all icy politeness to her, but Asha still thought that she and Cersei were destined for a knock-down, drag-out fight. She looked forward to it. She had taken just about enough of the Queen's little "inadvertent" references to ironborn as marauders and savages, no better than the wildlings north of the Wall. Asha sometimes thought about how good it would feel to get a good handful of Cersei's glorious blonde hair and bang her head against the floor, real hard.

Finally, the _Seaswift_ began heading out to sea with her escorts, and Asha turned her horse's head toward the Red Keep, along with the rest of the court. She wished that the quays were closer to the castle; she had a very bad feeling about this situation.

Tyrion rode closer, and said, in a low voice: "I've got guards planted in the crowds, my lady. Hopefully, they'll be able to tamp down trouble before it starts." Asha nodded, not letting her worry show. It was like keeping cool in a storm at sea; no matter how worried she was, she had to keep a cool façade in place for the sake of the crew.

She glanced over at the Queen. Cersei, to give her her due, was acting as cool as though she and the court were just out for a ride in a place of complete safety, instead of threading their way through a crowd that pretty clearly hated the sight of them. She was chatting quietly with one of her ladies. Sansa Stark was riding along behind her fiance, her face as blank as usual.

Just about then, a woman came out from the crowd, holding up a dead baby, forcing Joffrey to rein in. Joffrey tried offering her gold, but she ignored the money, holding her baby out as though she expected the King to make it live again.

"The people blame us for the situation, instead of Stannis," Tyrion muttered. "This doesn't look good." Asha agreed, and wished that she'd thought to have some of her crew accompany her. It wasn't that she didn't trust the Kingsguard or the Goldcloaks, but she'd have felt safer with ironborn guards.

The woman screamed: "Brotherfucker!" at Cersei, who paled. Asha heard the insult, and saw how the queen reacted, and suddenly knew exactly who the queen's children's father really was. _Tyrion _did_ say that they were a loving couple_! she thought to herself, mentally doffing her hat to her lover's cleverness.

That set the crowd off. There were screams of "Brotherfucker!" at the queen, "Imp!" and "Halfman!" at Tyrion, and shouts of "Stannis!" and "Robb!" Then someone yelled "Bread!" and in a second, everybody was calling for bread. Stones and dung flew, and someone lobbed a particularly well-aimed blob of horse-dung into the king's face.

Joffrey screamed with rage, yelling for the culprit to be brought before him, and several of his guards plunged into the crowd, which quickly turned into an angry mob. Tyrion yelled "Back to the castle! Now!" Asha needed no instruction to tell her how good an idea this was, and she clapped spurs to her horse, riding through a knot of people who were converging on her, yelling about "stringing up the ironborn slut." She didn't feel like being strung up that day, and lashed out with her sword, cutting down the ones that got too close to her before her horse got free of the crowd and began to run. Eerl Harlaw and Loren Longaxe were right beside her; she couldn't see Qarl the Maid anywhere, and hoped fervently that her former lover was all right. _He's a good fighter, but these are very bad odds! _

As Asha pounded up the road to the castle, with the crowd roaring behind her, she saw Tyrion, galloping along beside her, and she felt a lot better. Most of the people around the court, as far as she was concerned, would be no big loss. In fact, she could see the crowd's point of view; she could hardly believe that something like this hadn't happened already, what with Joffrey's general misrule. She had been utterly shocked to hear of him greeting a crowd of people calling for bread with shots from his crossbow.

After what seemed to her like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, she was reining in in the safety of the courtyard, as the rest of the court was streaming in, battered-looking and spattered with dung. Joffrey was screaming about how the people were all traitors and how he was going to have them all killed, until Tyrion slapped him, hard. The guards murmured, but made no move to intervene; Joffrey had put them in danger, too.

"You stupid, _spoiled_ little _fool_, you've killed Clegane, and the Seven know how many others! Where is the Lady Sansa?"

"I don't know," said one of the guards. Tyrion gave him a look that should have left him lying on the pavement with a smoking hole where his chest had once been.

"Well, find her! We need her alive!" Tyrion had explained to Asha about how Sansa was an important part of his father's plans; with her claim to Winterfell, she could end up securing the North for the kingdom, and possibly averting more war. Asha raised her hand to volunteer to go, but Tyrion saw it and shook his head slightly.

"Have you seen Qarl the Maid?" Asha asked the men around her. They all shook their heads, and Asha began to really worry. She cared about all her crew, and Qarl would always hold a special place in her heart.

"Are you cowards refusing an order from my brother?" snarled Cersei at the guards. "He is the Hand of the King, and disobedience is treason!" Asha raised an eyebrow. She knew that Cersei and Tyrion loathed each other, but she approved completely that in a situation like this, they worked together without friction. The good of the kingdom came before their private hatreds. That marked a good ruler…or a good captain.

For a second, she amused herself by imagining Cersei and Tyrion as ironborn, each commanding a longship. Cersei, of course, would be commanding _the Blonde Harridan_, while Tyrion would be sailing the _Shrewd Thinker_. _And they'd be bitter rivals, competing to see who could bring the most loot home to Pyke!_

Before she could go on with her mad idea, Sandor Clegane came galloping in astride Sansa Stark's horse, with Sansa herself clutching on behind him. He jumped off, snarling about what would happen if anything happened to his own horse, and Sansa clambered down stiffly. When Sansa saw Asha, she ran to her, throwing herself into the ironwoman's arms. Ever since Asha had taken compassion on her, Sansa saw Asha as someone who would protect her.

"They…they were all shouting! They yelled for bread, but I had no bread to give them! Some men tried to grab the reins of my horse, but Sandor…Sandor was there suddenly, and he cut off…he cut off a man's arm…" Asha held the girl tightly, feeling her whole body shaking with fear and reaction.

Some hours later, Asha and Tyrion were up in the keep, watching a big chunk of the city burn. Tyrion had given orders to try to keep the rioting away from certain important areas, but that was the limit of what he could do. Tyrion turned his mismatched eyes on his fiancee.

"My lady…I hope your people's shipments of food come quickly. We're on the edge of a volcano here."

END Chapter 08


	9. Chapter 9

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 09

by Technomad

_Asha Greyjoy_

A few days after the riot, a call came down from the highest tower in the Red Keep. "Sails on the horizon! Black sails on the horizon!"

Asha came running up the stairs, nearly elbowing the watchman aside in her eagerness to see. She peered across the bright water, and smiled. Sure enough, it was the fleet from the Iron Islands, hopefully loaded with enough food to at least end the starvation in the city! She could see the House designs on the sails, including the scythe of her nuncle Rodrik the Reader. That one was in the lead.

She and Tyrion had long since worked out how to deal with this situation, and she watched as their plans unfolded. Signal flags fluttered as the longships communicated with the shore, and the Iron Islands fleet entered the harbor in single-file, under the gaze of the catapults and wildfire throwers on the city walls. While Asha didn't think that her countrymen would be likely to try pulling a fast one, she was aware that the Crow's Eye was at large, and she wouldn't have put it past him, at least, to slip on in with the Iron Islands fleet to be able to get into Kings Landing without being challenged. Asha approved of the precautions being taken.

Most of the garrison were double-timing down to the quays, in full war gear. This had been rehearsed several times. She could see Tyrion down there, conspicuously directing things, along with the new High Septon. The High Septon wasn't wearing his crystal crown, which had been a casualty of the riots on the day that Princess Myrcella had sailed for Dorne. A new one was in the process of creation, but until then, the High Septon would have to go crownless, no matter how the Most Devout muttered among themselves at this scandalous situation.

Asha sneered to herself: _If the last High Septon had been less conspicuously __fat__ in a city full of starving people, he might still be here, and still wearing his crown!_ Her cousin the Damphair, back on the Islands, was humorless and fanatical, but nobody in the Islands would have doubted his honesty or sincerity. Asha, herself, would have entrusted him with any valuables she had without a second's thought, even if they weren't kin. Aeron Damphair feared nothing but the Drowned God, and would have snapped his fingers at the Lord of the Iron Isles, had her father been fool enough to try to order him to do something he thought was just plain wrong.

When the ironborn longships were tied to the quays, gangplanks were lowered, and the soldiers moved into position to protect the precious shipment. As sacks of grain were carried off the ships, they were picked up on the quay by low-ranking septons, who carried them to the Great Sept of Baelor.

Tyrion and Asha had discussed just how to deal with the shipments of food. For better or worse, taking them to the Red Keep would be seen as yet another example of the royals and nobles hogging all the food. The Great Sept had struck Tyrion as an obvious second choice; while the mob had admittedly killed the last High Septon, that didn't mean that they didn't respect the Faith as a whole.

Tyrion Lannister

Down on the docks, Tyrion was busily supervising the unloading of the food ships. A curious crowd had gathered, and were clearly delighted to see that food was being brought into the city. The fact that the Faith was taking charge of much of the distribution also seemed to please people; Tyrion was well aware of how much goodwill had been lost by his nephew's shenanigans, even though people were willing to make allowances for his youth.

As the food was loaded into wains, guarded by squads of royal soldiers, Tyrion heard something he hadn't expected. People were cheering. "Long live Joffrey! Long live Joffrey!" As he had calculated, the King was getting a lot of the credit for the re-victualling of the city. And then he heard something he never thought he'd hear in a thousand years: "Long live Tyrion! Long live the Halfman!"

This was unexpected, to say the very least. Tyrion had long since resigned himself to the fact that he would never be popular, no matter what. No matter what he did, people generally couldn't see past his deformed body, and to most folk, a twisted body meant a twisted mind and soul. Having people cheer his name to the echo was something he'd never have believed would happen, but he found that he liked it. He raised his hands, bathing in the approval of the crowd, as the food was moved up to the Great Sept, where it would be prepared and distributed in rations to all who needed food.

Bronn, never far away, leaned down and muttered: "They love you, my lord. At least today, they do."

Tyrion nodded, smiling. Then the smile left his face when he remembered who else was likely to be listening to the cheering, and what her reaction would be.

Sure enough, when the last of the food was unloaded and safely stored under guard at the Great Sept, Tyrion waddled back on up to the Red Keep, his mountain clansmen and Bronn around him as always. Instead of the usual scowls, he was greeted with smiles on all sides, and he noticed that when he got to the Keep, the servants' obedience to his commands was much quicker and more willing than he'd ever seen from them before. _I should re-victual the city more often_, he thought. _I like this_!

Cersei swept into the room, a procession of one. "Well," she sneered. "I watched that little show from one of the balconies. I see you're currying popularity with the mob. Planning to make yourself King, dear brother?"

Tyrion held on to his temper with an effort. _Dear, dear Cersei, always taking things the wrong way!_ "No, sweet sister," he ground out, gripping his wine glass tightly and imagining it was her throat, "I am not currying favor with the mob. I am seeing that the city has at least sufficient food to keep people from starving to death, until we've won this war, or won it enough to be able to resupply by land."

"Why would you do that?" Cersei sounded honestly curious. Tyrion looked at her carefully. He had always thought that his sister was, at least, of average intelligence. To have her saying something that stupid shocked him, and he mentally began composing a message to their lord father. Much as his lord father detested him, Tywin had no time or use for fools of any sort and either sex. Tyrion knew that he'd come down on Cersei like a thunderbolt if he'd heard what she already said.

"Sweet, sweet sister," Tyrion purred, his voice dripping honeyed venom, "what I am doing may, among other things, prevent our having our throats cut in our sleep by our servants! The people who serve us, who wait on us hand and foot, all come from Kings Landing, and have relatives and friends in the city. Even if our servants are eating well, they hear about how things are going. Don't you remember the riot? If things had gone a little worse, we could all be _dead_! Kings have lost their thrones because their capitals weren't fed and happy!"

Cersei looked at him like the class idiot called upon to decipher a particularly difficult Old Valyrian quotation. Looking at her, Tyrion wondered what Jaime, or anybody else, ever saw in her. The eyes are open, the mouth moves, but the brain is not functioning, he thought to himself. Sighing, he set himself to explain a few of the facts of life to his ignorant sibling.

"Look, Cersei, I know you look down on the smallfolk, but they outnumber us hundreds to one, and if they decided _en masse_ that Stannis or Robb was who they wanted on the Iron Throne, there wouldn't be much we could do. Many of our soldiers come from Kings Landing, and even the ones we brought in from the Lannister lands have formed attachments here. They walk the same streets, scoop up their bowls of brown in the same eateries, and see themselves surrounded by people very like their own families. Seven hells, sister! All it would take would be for our soldiers to desert, and all our heads would be on spikes in less than a day! Or do you think for one minute you could charm Stannis Baratheon or Robb Stark into sparing your life?"

Cersei turned pale. "My children-"

"Your children would be lucky to _live_. At least Tommen and Myrcella would stand a chance, _if_ they fell into the hands of Robb Stark. But neither Robb nor Stannis would spare Joffrey! Robb owes Joffrey for his father, and I wouldn't be surprised if he knows about how your son treats his sister, Sansa! And Stannis would kill all three of them just for being who they were, and because of who their real father is!" Cersei turned red, then white, then leaned forward to try to hit Tyrion. "Hit me if you want, _but Stannis knows the truth_! How he figured it out is neither here nor there! Our only safety is in victory, and if we lose the smallfolk, _particularly here in Kings Landing_, we will _not win_!"

Cersei looked sick. For a second, Tyrion felt regret. Then he hardened his heart. "Look, all I do I do for us. For Joffrey, if you want it that way. Personally, I'd almost rather have the Mad King back than have him on the Iron Throne. You and that oaf you married did a fine job of ruining him. What were you _thinking_? Or didn't you hear about how he behaved?"

"He always was a strong-willed child," Cersei whispered, her voice going stronger as she continued to speak. "Robert never paid him much attention, except to reprove him when he did wrong. I think that all he really ever wanted was a father, but he never had one."

_Lucky Joffrey_, thought Tyrion; his own experience with a father had not been pleasant at all. "You should have spoken with Robert. Charmed him. You can charm people; I've seen you do it many a time. But with people you don't think you have to charm, frankly, sweet sister, you're one of the most poisonous people I know. I don't blame you for resenting Robert's whoring, but I could always see that you were cold as ice to him. Let me tell you a little secret, dear sister, about men." Tyrion leaned forward. "Men want _willing _sex. The kind of man that wants _unwilling_ sex is a rapist, and at least outside of the madness of war, most men despise rapists. Robert was many things, and many of them I have no respect for at all - but he was no Gregor Clegane."

At the mention of the monstrous Gregor Clegane, Cersei turned slightly green. She was ignorant, and arrogant, but she was not such a fool as to imagine that she'd have lasted any time at all married to the man-monster. Clegane had a very sinister reputation. Robert had hit her a few times, but one punch from Gregor Clegane might have ruined her looks for life, if not killed her. And Clegane feared nothing at all, if only because he was too brutish and stupid to understand fear.

"If you'd had the wit to _seduce_ Robert, and keep him exhausted in bed, he probably wouldn't have whored, or at least not so much. But that's water under the bridge." Tyrion sighed. "The food should be ready to distribute tomorrow, or so the High Septon informs me. And I think it would be a good idea for us to be very visibly out there, handing out loaves to the people. That means you, me, and the King himself."

"Joffrey? Joffrey would never-"

"Joffrey had _better_. Or Joffrey's reign might just be as short as I am." Tyrion's voice was flat. "Stunts like firing his crossbow into that crowd haven't made us any friends. Oh, I'll have the Kingsguard, the goldcloaks and my mountain clansmen around him, and I'll also see how many ironmen I can borrow from my fiancee and the Iron Islands fleet, but Joffrey needs to be seen to care for his people, no matter how big an act it is."

"Very well," Cersei sighed. "Maybe we should all wear the sort of robes that penitents wear who're on a pilgrimage to the Great Sept? To show how 'sorry we are' that the smallfolk have suffered so?"

Tyrion stared at his sister. "Cersei, that's the best idea I've heard from you in years! That would go over splendidly!"

END Chapter 09


	10. Chapter 10

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 10

**Tyrion Lannister**

Tyrion groaned. A whole day of handing out loaves to common people, dressed in the robes of a penitent, had taken a good deal out of him. The robes had been unpleasantly hot, and he had sweated fairly freely.

Beside him, Cersei sank down into a chair, fanning herself. Even blotched with heat and dressed in burlap robes, Tyrion had to admit she looked lovely. "I hope we don't have to do this again in a hurry!" she muttered. She pulled back her hood, and wiped sweat off her forehead.

"I don't think we'll need to," Tyrion replied. "Today's little exercise in public humility went very well, sweet sister. How did you keep my dear, _dear_ nephew from making a mess of things?"

Unexpectedly, Cersei grinned at her brother. "Oh, that was easy. I just told him that if he didn't cooperate, and make it look like he was doing it cheerfully, I'd let Sandor Clegane train him…and not hold back!" She shrugged her shoulders. "Joffrey's known the Hound all his life, and knows that the Hound won't take his sass. _Gods_, I hope this is the last time we have to do this for a while!"

"I'll ask Asha. She's got a better idea of how many ships the ironmen have, and how much grain they can move from the Lannister lands." Tyrion smiled. "And once these shipments become a matter of routine, we won't have to do this ourselves. The High Septon has the septons and septas organized."

Tyrion thought back on the day. He, Cersei, Joffrey, Lavan and several other prominent members of the court had been handing out loaves, with goldcloaks standing by to ink the hands of the recipients. This had not gone over badly; most people did not care for the idea of people cheating to get extra bread. Luckily, the ironmen had managed to bring in enough grain, on top of what was already stored, to give every family in the city a loaf. And when the day was done, the people had cheered Joffrey…and Cersei, and Tyrion. That had to be good.

_And, speak of evil and it appears_…Joffrey came swaggering in. "Well? Have I humbled myself enough, dear uncle?" He pulled off the heavy burlap robe with a sneer and threw it at Tyrion. "I have never been so humiliated in all my life!"

"Being King means there's lots of things you do that you don't want to, Joffrey," Tyrion explained, after he'd got himself untangled from his nephew's robe. "Better get used to it!"

"I am the King, and the King does as he likes!" At this, both Tyrion and Cersei's eyes narrowed.

"You may be the King, but you are still an underaged boy, and as such, the Hand, or the Hand's deputy, may override you. You have not yet reached the age of majority, Joff." Cersei's words were gently phrased, but the edge in her voice told Tyrion that she, too, was getting mortally sick and tired of this spoiled, arrogant princeling_. Maybe she even regrets dosing dear Robert with strongwine before his hunt?_ Tyrion wondered. Then he shook his head, dismissing that insane idea. Cersei had hated and resented Robert, partly for his whoring and general excesses, and partly for still being at least somewhat in love with Lyanna Stark. Tyrion was rather surprised that she'd waited so long to get rid of her unloved husband. _All things being taken into account, Robert's lucky to be shut of sweet Cersei, once and for all. Would that__** I**__ were!_

Years of practice at dealing with his sister kept Tyrion's thoughts off his face, but he had considered asking Asha if, after their wedding, a long honeymoon far from the Royal Court would be possible. He could see that she didn't care much for Kings Landing, and he couldn't honestly blame her. The place had never been fun for him, even without the war. And the state of more-or-less siege meant that it felt claustrophobic, even for him who'd grown to manhood in Lannisport and Casterly Rock. How much worse would it be for Asha, who was a creature of the open sea?

And, speaking of Asha…his fiancee walked in. "How went the distribution? Was there enough to go around?" She poured herself a cup of wine and sat down, winking at Tyrion.

Joffrey exploded, just as Tyrion had known Asha had known he would. "How dare you be so casual around me, your king?" His face turned an unseemly shade of red, and he literally shook with rage. "After you wed my uncle, I'll take you in hand myself!"

Asha looked him over cooly, like something in a market she wasn't sure she cared about enough to buy. "Little boy," she drawled, "you aren't a tenth of the man your uncle is. And after the wedding, I'll be your _aunt_. Have you forgotten about that…or is that sort of thing accepted around here? It isn't in the Iron Islands. We keep our sticky fingers _off_ our relatives."

Joffrey went even redder, while Cersei went white. Tyrion masked a smile behind his cup of wine. She had put both of them in their place, without doing anything the least bit out of line. And Cersei couldn't call her on it without proclaiming her guilt to all present. She knew that Tyrion knew, but didn't know that Asha knew…and she would have died of shame had Joffrey known that his father was his mother's brother! Not to mention what would happen if the servants heard. Tyrion's actions had reminded her that every servant had two eyes, two ears and a functioning brain between them, and what they knew, they could share.

Cersei finally recovered her aplomb. "The Lady Asha is quite correct, Joffrey. I think you're tired. You've had a long day. You need to take a nap." Her blue eyes went cold and hard. "Sort of _now_-ish."

Their wills visibly clashed, and Joffrey's broke. With a muttered "By your good leave, my ladies, my lord," he left the room, heading toward his bedroom.

Cersei turned to Asha. "Please forgive him, my lady. My son was always a difficult child, and the elevation to the throne hasn't helped much. Once he's married, his new wife may be able to stabilize him."

Asha raised an eyebrow. "After that ugly scene that Lord Tyrion and I walked in on in the throne room, Your Grace, I have my doubts about that. The Lady Sansa is frightened of her own shadow, and His Grace takes great pleasure in abusing her. Did he learn that from his father?"

Cersei went red. "What do you mean?" After Asha finished describing just what Joffrey had been doing when she and Tyrion had interrupted him, Cersei went white as a sheet. "Seven save us all! I'd heard about some ugly incident, but this is worse than I had heard!" She got up and stalked off in the direction of her son's room. "I think it's time I had a long talk with that boy!"

Asha and Tyrion looked at each other. "Good luck to her," Asha said, with a smile. "That sort doesn't respond to talkings-to. Thrashings are about the only language they understand."

"Strictly between you and me, Lady Asha, I'm not sure that even thrashings would do much good. The rot is too deep." Shrugging off Joffrey and all his works, Tyrion pulled out a roll of paper. "This is my plan for dealing with Stannis Baratheon's fleet, when they attack Kings Landing. Our spies say he's got an attack coming, soon. What do you think of it?"

Asha's dark eyes went wide as she saw Tyrion's plan. "So _that's_ what you've been up to with all those smithies! This is ingenious!" She pointed at the map of the harbor. "And here's how I think we can use the Iron Fleet to help out…" The two of them bent to their work, oblivious of the outside world.

Asha Greyjoy

Asha was soon deep in conference with the ironborn captains who were in Kings Landing. Swearing them to secrecy, she explained Lord Tyrion's plan, and they were all eager to get in on the fun. "Those ships will be brimming with loot," they gloated, "and we'll get a share of it!" The Islands were very poor, and even the wealthiest captains were always on the lookout for more.

Spreading out a large map, Asha began explaining Lord Tyrion's plan for the upcoming battle. The captains crowded close, nodding and exclaiming to themselves at the brilliance of this scheme, and Asha smiled to see their enthusiasm.

When they parted for the day, the plan was completely in place. All that was needed for a brilliant victory was Stannis Baratheon, and Asha was sure, from what she'd heard of the man, that he'd cooperate fully in his own undoing.

Some weeks later, she was aroused from sleep by a maid. "Lady Asha? Lady Asha?"

"Yes?" Rolling naked from her bed, Asha began pulling on her clothes. "What is it?"

"The enemy fleet has hove into sight. Lord Tyrion wishes you to don your battle gear and report to him, immediately."

"You may give my compliments to Lord Tyrion, and tell him that I'll be there as quickly as I can." As the maid left, Asha scrambled into her armor, strapped on her sword, picked up her helmet and shield, and walked out, to find herself faced with her crew.

"Today, my friends, we'll show these soft green people what ironborn can really do!" Her words brought a loud, hoarse cheer. "I have a bet on with Lord Tyrion! He thinks his mountain clansmen will do better on the battlefield than you will! Will you win that bet for me?"

"YES!" And with that, Asha Greyjoy led her men, and one woman, off to battle, her step light and her head high.

END Chapter 10


	11. Chapter 11

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 11

by Technomad

Asha clattered up the stairs to the top of the parapet to find Tyrion already there with his guard detail all around. She nodded her approval. She knew perfectly well that Queen Cersei despised the air her younger brother breathed, and a battlefield was an easy place for "accidents" to happen. Her crew followed her up, spreading out until they held a section of the wall. She saw Jinjur winking, and smiled. She wouldn't put it one bit past Cersei to see that she, too, had an "accident." The Queen considered her a barbarian, and no matter how much she despised Tyrion, Cersei considered _any_ Lannister much too good for a Greyjoy.

King Joffrey was also standing by, with Ser Meryn beside him. The skies had an odd greenish tint, and as she looked out over the harbor, she gasped. She had never seen wildfire in action before, and the idea of fire that burned fiercely on the water's own surface chilled her blood in a way she had never expected. She was very, very glad that she'd had enough forewarning to make sure that _Black Wind_ was out of the harbor. That ship was nearly all she had in the world, and she'd not have been happy at all about losing her. "A Lannister pays his debts," to be sure, but she and the _Black Wind_ had been together long enough for the ship to feel like an extension of her body. Losing her would have been like having a limb amputated.

Other friendly ships were in harbor, though. Joffrey pointed out to the harbor, all but foaming at the mouth. "_Uncle_!" he howled, sounding like the spoiled, petulant child he was. "They're _burning_! My beautiful ships are burning! Look! The _Seaflower_! _Loyal Man_! _Kingslander_! And _Queen Cersei_!" He stamped his foot. "Do something! Why are you burning _my ships_?"

Tyrion gave his nephew an exasperated look. "We had to lure your uncle's fleet in, and if the harbor had stood empty, even Stannis Baratheon would have suspected a trap. The ships can be replaced, but our heads cannot…and if we lose this fight, our heads will all be up on spikes."

Asha looked around, and noticed someone missing. "My lord, where is Bronn?" She didn't always trust the sellsword, but she knew him to be no coward and by no means averse to getting into a good fight.

Tyrion grinned. "He's down supervising the raising of the chain. You can see it now. Look!" Asha peered out at the green-lit water, and gasped in wonder. She had known of the chain's existence, but somehow had not grasped the sheer size of it. As she watched, some of "King" Stannis' ships made a run at it, hoping to bear over it and break free, but of four, only one made it, and that was at the cost of great damage to her hull. The crew pulled frantically for the open sea, where many of Stannis' ships could be seen. The majority, though, had taken the bait, and were now being destroyed as thoroughly as any ships Asha had ever seen.

_If I _ever_ attack Kings Landing, particularly after seeing _this_, I _deserve_ to burn for being an idiot!_ ran through her mind. Part of her was delighted that her fiance's plan had worked out so well, but another part couldn't help but empathize with the desperate men struggling to survive, out on the water. Any sailor would have felt the same.

"It didn't work as well as I'd hoped," Tyrion muttered. "The Myrish ships escaped, at least for now, and we've got a landing force down by the gates." As if to emphasize his words, a rhythmic crashing came from the direction of the gates. "Tell Lord Jacelyn to look to the gate," he snapped at a runner, who saluted and ran off to obey his lord's command. "You, tell Ser Arneld to rotate the Three Whores thirty degrees to bombard those ships!"

"Yes! And I want to be up there!" Joffrey swept his arm at some men Asha hadn't noticed before. Naked and shivering, they were all bound, and they had antlers nailed to their heads, with rivulets of blood running down the sides of their heads. "Those traitors, the Antler Men, need to be shot from the catapults, and I want to give the order for it!"

"Go on, Your Majesty." As Joffrey ran off, Tyrion turned to Ser Meryn. "And _you_…keep him _alive_, or your head will be on a spike no matter _how_ this battle ends! Do you understand me?" Ser Meryn paled and saluted before going off to follow his king. Tyrion then turned to Asha. "At last, I can direct this battle without worrying about him! My sister will have my skin for a war-flag if anything happens to her precious baby!"

"Really?" Asha gave her fiance a sardonic smirk. "She and her son would be laughed out of the Iron Islands!" Where Asha came from, boys even younger than Joffrey were expected to be able to handle themselves, and not hide behind their mothers. And mothers who encouraged such behavior faced fierce disapproval from their compeers.

"I know." Tyrion grinned his crooked grin at her. Just then, another runner came up, calling for him. Tyrion sighed and beckoned the youngster over.

"My lord! The enemy have landed on the tourney grounds! They're bringing a ram to bear against the Great Gate!"

"Of course they are," Tyrion said in a sardonic voice. "Thank you. You may go." He started down the stairs, his men and Asha's behind him. "Come on, Asha. It's time we saw what dear Stannis has for us to play with." They had horses waiting, and soon were galloping for the gate.

When they got there, they saw something that Asha had never expected. Sandor Clegane had been apparently asked to lead the sortie, but he was refusing. "No. Bugger the crown. Bugger the king. Bugger the white cloak! I'll not do it!" At this, Asha could see the defenders quailing. If Sandor Clegane, of all people, had had enough fighting, their body-language proclaimed, why should they go on with the battle?

Tyrion saw that they were wavering. "Very well! I'll lead the sortie myself!" He rode forward, and turned to face the frightened defenders. "Why are you afraid? This is far more your fight than mine!" He waved his arm at the city behind them. "That city is your city! That's the city Stannis' men will plunder! It's your women his men will rape! It's your houses that will burn! Do you dare follow where a _dwarf_ leads?"

Asha reined up beside him, slim and deadly-looking in her armor. "Make that a dwarf…and a _woman_! Come on, you ironborn! Let's show these soft folk how to really fight!" Her crew roared their approval, and waved their weapons to show their support.

"There are brave men out there, knocking at our gate! _Let's go kill them_!" With a howl of pure bloodlust, the Kings Landing defenders swarmed out at the enemy, with Tyrion and Asha, side by side, in the lead. Forming a flying wedge, they charged at the enemy, yelling their various battle cries.

Asha had never been in such an intense fight, and it was everything she could ever have wanted or hoped for in a battle. She stuck close to Tyrion's side, with his squire, Podrick Payne, on the other side. Through the roar of combat, she could hear Tyrion trying to order Podrick to go back, and she saw the shy boy shake his head in refusal, even though he was clearly so scared that he looked like he was seasick. She really respected him for that; she knew how hard it was to conquer one's own fears.

Arrows and spears sang around their heads, and Asha, at the head of her crew, forged ahead into the thick of the fighting, her own sword a swirling arc of steel, destroying all who dared stand against her. Not far away, Jinjur's red hair stood out like a crown of flame under her helmet, as her sword carved a dreadful path through the enemy. The rest of the ironborn were not behindhand, but that was no surprise. She had not ever allowed cowards to sail on the _Black Wind_.

Rather to her surprise, Tyrion was holding his own. Guards or no guards, the fighting was intense enough that he had to engage the enemy himself, and he was apparently by no means a bad fighter given his limitations. But then, dwarf or no dwarf, he was a Lannister, and the men of that House were renowned as warriors.

After an interval that had felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than minutes, the attackers were put to flight, running for their lives. Tyrion signalled the halt, not wanting his men to get spread out and make themselves vulnerable to a counter-attack. He reined in beside Asha, his eyes sparkling.

"So this is what Jaime lives for," he panted. Asha smiled. She had never meet her good-brother-to-be, but had heard a great deal about him. He was a warrior's warrior, never happier than when in battle or on the tourney field. _Of course_, Asha thought, _those are two places that poisonous sister of his can't follow him!_

Astride a lathered horse, Ser Balon rode up. "Look! Look at the river!" He pointed, and when Asha saw what he was pointing at, her blood went cold with fear. Out on the river, the jammed mass of enemy galleys that had escaped Tyrion's wildfire had formed a logjam that could be crossed, and a large body of enemy troops was beginning to cross over, hoping to take Kings Landing at a vulnerable point.

"Oh, Seven save us," Tyrion muttered. "We've got to counter-attack!" Jumping clumsily from his horse, he waddled toward the impromptu bridge, and Asha dismounted and ran after him, yelling to her crew to follow her.

Tyrion led the way onto the bridge, but Asha was right beside him, and so was Podrick Payne. To Asha's surprise, the shy boy had survived all the fighting, despite being in the thick of action as hot as she'd ever seen in her life. For a second, she speculated about what he might have been like if he'd been ironborn. He might not have been so shy, and could have blossomed into a mighty captain in his own right.

Arrows sang around her ears as she and Tyrion led the charge forward. She and her crew, of course, were completely at home on the decks of ships, even half-wrecked galleys of an unfamiliar design. Tyrion was less nimble, and more than once he stumbled, as did his men, but they kept getting right back to their feet and charging forward.

The bridge was inherently unstable, with the current pushing against it relentlessly. Asha could feel the decks swaying as the ships rocked back and forth, and she wondered how long the bridge would hold. _As long as it takes_, she thought, and she sent a silent prayer to the Drowned God to let it hold, although she normally had the Iron Islands' view of the god: that he was not a good god to call on.

The Drowned God didn't seem to be answering prayers; with a sudden groan and roar of snapping timbers, the ships tore loose from each other, and Asha, Tyrion, Podrick and some of Asha's crew found themselves on a free-floating, slowly-sinking wreck, spinning around as the ships that had been jammed into the logjam worked free and began their journeys downriver. The ship bumped up against another ship, and stopped for a little while. The other ship was securely grounded, and wasn't going anywhere.

"My lord Tyrion! Take my hand!" That was Ser Mandon, on the grounded ship, reaching out…with his left hand? Asha's eyes went wide as she saw the knight's right hand cock back his sword, ready to swing at Tyrion the second the dwarf was securely gripped and in range. With a yell of rage, she threw herself at the treacherous knight, and found herself tackling him along with Podrick Payne.

"You murderous cur!" screamed Asha. "He's mine! I'll kill you!" Ser Mandon swung his sword, but she was in too close, gripping him around the waist and forcing him backward. He fetched up against the ship's railing and overbalanced, going into the water with a howl of despair. Panting, Asha and Podrick watched as he hit the water with a loud splash, going down and not coming up. Asha smiled grimly. _He was no ironborn_, she thought; _he feared drowning_!

Meanwhile, Tyrion and most of her surviving crew had managed to join them. Tyrion was looking around them. "Asha…is it my imagination, or have we won a victory today?"

Asha finally managed to tear her eyes away from the water to follow her fiance's pointing finger. From what she could see, it looked like a crushing victory. She was seeing Lannister banners, with their golden rampant lion on a red background, in places she'd have never expected to see them, along with the royal banner and the golden kraken on a black background of her own House. Stannis' Baratheon's colors were nowhere to be seen.

Tyrion sighed, suddenly looking as weary as Asha felt. "Well, my lady…" he said, taking her hand, "let us go ashore, and find out what's happened while our backs were turned."

END Chapter 11


	12. Chapter 12

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 12

by Technomad

_Tyrion Lannister_

Tyrion was unutterably weary, but he still had his duty to do, and a Lannister never shirked duty. "Come," he husked, surprised at how hoarse his voice was, "let us go ashore and find out what's happened while our backs were turned." Podrick and Asha helped him along as they clambered down off the grounded ship.

A boat was soon found that would take them across the Blackwater, and the three of them were soon heading up to the main river-side gate. All three of them looked much the worse for wear; their armor was battered and dented, their faces were bruised and bloody, and their eyes were rather wild. "Aren't we a fine-looking trio?" muttered Tyrion, startling a chuckle from his betrothed.

They soon found people who could tell them what had happened. Tywin Lannister had arrived, with the men who had followed Renly Baratheon before his untimely demise in addition to his own, and had fallen on Stannis' flank. The enemy had been all but annihilated; Stannis had managed to get away, but most of his fleet had been lost, either to wildfire or to the waiting royal and Greyjoy fleets, along with nearly all of his followers.

They limped on in to the Red Keep, and were pounced on by servants. "My lord Tyrion, my lord your father commands your presence, immediately," one of them said, bowing low.

"And we mustn't disappoint my father, must we?" muttered Tyrion. "Lead on. I suppose he's in the throne room?"

As it happened, Lord Tywin _was_ in the throne room, along with Tyrion's pestilential sister and the brat she'd spawned. Joffrey was up on the Iron Throne, but nobody was paying much attention to him, and Tyrion grinned to himself at his expression. Cersei was looking peeved, but then, she usually did.

At Tyrion's entrance, Tywin turned to him. "Ah. You're here. You took long enough." He raised one blond eyebrow. "I must say, you've looked better, Tyrion."

Tyrion forced a grin. "Just following the family tradition, Father. Mustn't let Jaime grab all the glory." He swept his hand to one side. "Lady Asha, may I present my father, Lord Tywin Lannister? Father, this is my betrothed, Lady Asha Greyjoy of Pyke. And, back of me, you will see my squire, Podrick Payne. A good lad, but very shy."

Tywin had never seen Asha before, and judging from the way his eyes widened, he liked what he saw. Coming forward, he took Asha's hand, bowing over it. "Your presence brightens my day, Lady Asha. I take it you were in the battle, too?" He looked her up and down, rather like a horse he was thinking about buying.

Asha nodded, as dignified as a high septa. "Yes, my lord. We of the Iron Islands consider war to be one of our callings in life."

"Along with reaving, no doubt. But forgive my manners. Please retire to your chambers and rest and refresh yourselves. Later, we shall see what the rewards for this day will be." As Tyrion turned to leave, Tywin called after him: "Oh…and see to it that I get the Hand's collar back. You seem to have done well as acting Hand of the King, but now that I'm here, I shall wish to reclaim my position." Tyrion was too tired to argue, so he just nodded as he left.

Asha Greyjoy

When Asha returned to her chambers, maids fluttered around her, stripping off her armor and gasping at her bruises and cuts…none of them serious, thank the Drowned God!…and soon had her soaking in a wonderful warm bath up to her neck. When she got up to get out, she found just how weary she really was, and nearly stumbled; one of the maids, fortunately, was in a position to steady her.

"Take it easy, Lady! You look more worn than my sister did after the first time she gave birth!" The maid's eyes were round with wonder. "May I ask, my lady…is it frightening, actually fighting in a battle?"

As the maids wrapped her in a sleeping mantle, Asha gave the question some thought. "To be honest, Shetha, I'm not frightened at all during a fight. I'm just much too busy. Before, I will admit privately that I get a few butterflies in the stomach, but an actual fight is like a storm at sea; it takes up all my attention to the point that fear has no place in my mind." With that, she crawled into bed and felt sleep take her as she snuggled deep into the blankets.

Tyrion Lannister

The next day, after a long sleep and a good meal apiece, Asha and Tyrion met in Tyrion's new chambers. Tywin had claimed the Hand's quarters as his own, and had seen to it that Tyrion was moved into new chambers, not far from Asha.

"We lost a lot of people," Tyrion said sadly. "I imagine your crew suffered, too."

"Rook and Fingers are dead," Asha sighed. "Harlaw the Horn took an arrow in his side; the maesters say they can save him, but it'll be a long convalescence. Grimtongue broke an arm, Rolfe the Dwarf got his jaw broken, and Lorren Longaxe broke a leg. I'll have to ask among the ironborn captains who took part in the battle for any of their crew they can spare. I don't like leaving _Black Wind_ under-manned."

"Many of my mountain clansmen are returning home," Tyrion replied. "They say they've won great glory, but it's time to go home…and get in on the harrying of the Vale. They've heard great tales of their relatives' deeds, and they don't want to be left out."

"That makes your position more perilous, my lord," Asha mused aloud. "You have said your father loves you but little, and the King and Queen Dowager both despise you completely. If we stay long around here, I fear a 'fatal accident' might befall you."

"And you, my lady and love," Tyrion answered. "My sweet sister detests you as a 'barbarian,' and my nephew cannot forget that you saw him shamed before the entire court, the time he beat Lady Sansa so. And we are no longer needed here, I think. The Tyrells have opened the kingsroad, and between them and your people, Kings Landing should be well-fed."

A page entered. "My lord, my lady…be prepared for court later. His Majesty wishes to honor the heroes…and heroines…of the Battle of the Blackwater, and announce certain changes in the makeup of the court."

"That sounds like our cue, my lord," Asha leaned down and kissed Tyrion. "Let us go to court…and ask for the reward we really want!"

Looking into her dark eyes, Tyrion knew just what reward she had in mind. He gave her a grin, and they hugged carefully, before separating to go prepare for court.

Asha Greyjoy

When the summons came for Asha and her surviving ironborn to come to court, they were ready. They were in the height of ironborn fashion, and glittered with gold and jewelry. Asha looked them over, her heart aching for the ones who couldn't be there, either due to injuries or death.

"Well, men…and Jinjur…" she began, with a wink at her female crew member, "it's about that time. Let's show these soft folk that ironborn fear nothing!" She had noticed that some of them looked more worried at being paraded before the court than they had been before the battle. "Come on, chins up. They'll be glad to see you! We're all heroes!"

And so they were. When they came into court, in single file behind Asha, the court cheered them to the echo, and Asha was very pleased to see that some of her own kin from Pyke had come. Her favorite nuncle, Rodrik the Reader, was there, a book under his arm, and Asha smiled to herself at the thought that prying him out of the royal library would probably be a challenge for the Kingsguard and his crew.

Joffrey was on his throne, looking surprisingly regal, but it was clear that his grandfather, Lord Tywin, was in full command. Honors and titles were being dispensed with a generous hand, and a long parade of defeated, captured lords were paraded before the throne to bend the knee to the King and forswear further rebellion.

Asha cheered and clapped when Bronn was called forth, to be told that he was to be dubbed a knight and given lands of his own. She knew that for a sellsword of no family, this was a glorious reward, and she liked the cynical fellow and wanted him to be happy. She began wondering about finding him a wife.

Finally, her name was called. She came forward, limping only a little, and knelt to the King, before Tywin told her to rise.

"It appears, my lady, that you and my son turned the tide of battle. If it were not for the sheer number of eyewitness reports to your bravery, I'd hardly have credited it myself."

Asha bowed. "All in a day's work, my lord. You speak of it as though it were…_unusual_." At this sally, the ironborn in the room all cheered, and the other warriors smothered smiles. Queen Cersei looked like she'd bitten into an apple to find half a worm in it, and Asha smiled inwardly. The Queen did not care to be upstaged by any other woman, Asha had noticed. She made a mental note to do it again; it was her considered opinion that Cersei needed taking down a peg or two. Then she had a wonderful idea. _What if I were to plant the idea in Lord Tywin's mind that he should marry her off to someone far away…someone she'd be sure to detest? _At that thought, she had to stifle a giggle. She could just picture Cersei's outraged tantrums at being told she would have to marry again.

"Still and all," Tywin intoned, "you should be rewarded. What gifts can the Throne give you, Lady Asha Greyjoy of Pyke?"

"For my crew, I would ask that they be given enough wealth to be able to buy ships of their own, once we return to the islands," Asha said, her voice steady. She had given this some thought. "A good captain trains up her crew so that they may one day be captains themselves, just as a good parent trains up children to become strong, useful adults."

Her crew gasped, and then applauded her loudly. Her nuncle Rodrik's eyes shone with pride. Tywin nodded thoughtfully. "That is well-thought-of, my lady. A good leader thinks of his or her followers. And for yourself…?"

Asha stood straight and tall, and the hall went very quiet. Everybody knew that she had earned rich rewards, and the Lannisters were known to pay their debts. "For myself, my lord, all that I ask is that we set the date for the wedding between myself and Lord Tyrion." At this, the hall erupted in noise. Many people couldn't believe that she would still go through with the marriage that had been arranged, and a buzz of speculation arose, only to be quelled by a hard look from Lord Tywin.

"My lady…are you sure about this?" His expression was stern, but behind it, she thought she could see a man who was confronted by a pretty young girl who wanted to do something he couldn't begin to comprehend. "Is this truly the one reward you want? You could name your match, and if he were unmarried, he would be your husband as quickly as we could arrange a wedding."

"My lord, I have named my match. It is Tyrion Lannister, of Casterly Rock. You yourself promised him to me! 'A Lannister always pays his debts,' remember? I will wed him, and _no other_, and have him for my husband until the end of our days!"

"Very well, so be it! I shall command the servants to prepare the castle for a wedding." Tywin still looked slightly gobsmacked, and Asha took pity on him. Greatly daring, she stepped forward and took his hand in both of hers.

"I look forward to having you as my good-father, my lord. And after the wedding, I want to take my new husband, and Black Wind, and sail to Lannisport and Casterly Rock. As the newest member of the family, I should get to know those places, should I not?" Tywin nodded, unable to speak, as the cheering and applause echoed around the hall.

END Chapter 12


	13. Chapter 13

The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter Thirteen

by Technomad

Asha Greyjoy

Asha's quarters had been transformed into a gathering place for many of the castle's women. Standing on a stool, she allowed herself to be measured and prepared for a new gown; the Queen herself had commanded that she be decked out in full resplendent glory for her wedding to Tyrion. "After all," the Queen had explained, "at least one of you should look…presentable. And of course, your _home islands'_ clothing would _hardly_ suit such an occasion."

This wasn't the only dig that Queen Cersei had made at Asha or at the ironborn in general, and Asha was getting good and sick and tired of that woman. Sooner or later, they were going to have to have a real showdown. Asha honestly thought she could take Cersei, woman-to-woman; the Queen was not in bad shape, but Asha had grown up doing all sorts of hard work, and still practiced regularly with her surviving crew members. The thought of grabbing a handful of that glorious blonde hair and pounding its owner's head against the floor felt so good…

The other women buzzed and twittered among themselves, and Asha smiled to herself at the thought of how most of them would react to the idea of leading a reaving party or commanding a ship. The upcoming wedding had them all in a flutter; even Sansa Stark had come a little out of her shell of remote courtesy, offering her best wishes for a happy marriage. Asha privately thought that Sansa had acted incredibly foolishly; she had heard all about how Sansa's crush on Joffrey had led to her betrayal of her father, but Asha also thought that at age twelve, a certain amount of foolishness was to be expected, and that Sansa had endured more than enough punishment.

Ever since the Whip Incident, Sansa tried to make sure that she was not far from Asha if it was at all possible. If the ironborn woman was available, Sansa would stay as close as she was allowed to unless directly commanded by the Queen, or, lately, Lord Tywin, not to tag around after Asha. Asha herself had assured the Lannisters that she didn't mind having Sansa around, and her crew had all but adopted the forlorn girl, treating her like a daughter or little sister. Among other things, this kept Joffrey more-or-less at bay; the King talked a good game, but Asha noted with amusement that he tended to moderate his conduct when ironborn were nearby.

As the dressmaker fussed over her, Asha lost herself for a second or two in a vision of what Joffrey's life would be like, if he had to go to the Iron Islands. _He'd be a bilge rat_, she thought, _cleaning out the bottoms of ships!_ _And even __**thralls**__ would kick his arse, night and day_! The idea pleased her, and she smiled; the dressmaker thought she was smiling in approval of her new clothes, and smiled back.

A few days later, the dress was delivered, and Asha had to admit that the dressmaker had done a wonderful job. With the willing help of her crewwoman Jinjur, she was soon dressed and ready. Jinjur's eyes glowed with pleasure. Asha smiled to herself; even ironborn women were wild about weddings!

"Skipper…we got your cloak!" That was Lorren Longaxe. Leaning on crutches, he hobbled in, the precious black cloak with its Greyjoy kraken worked on it in gold thread over one arm.

"Let's see it." Taking it from her crewman, she held it out. Her new good-father had really done right by her, she noted. It was beautiful, smooth black wool, as unlike the rough, scratchy product of the Islands as could be. She smiled and slipped it on. It fit her perfectly.

"I hope the Lannister cloak you'll be wearing is this nice," Jinjur whispered in her ear. Asha smiled at her lone female crew member.

"I'm sure it will be, Jinjur. Lord Tywin doesn't forget details like that." She had, in fact, heard that it was the same Lannister cloak that Queen Cersei had worn at her own wedding to Robert Baratheon, before it was removed to be replaced by the Baratheon cloak with its black stag on a gold background. She hoped that wasn't a bad omen; she'd heard a great deal from Tyrion, and her crew had heard from the castle servants, about how bad that marriage had been. She shook her head; ironborn put no stock in omens and other such foolishness.

When the time came, Rodrik the Reader, in lieu of her father, who couldn't be present, stepped forward to escort her, as her crew and selected female members of the court paired off to follow her into the Great Sept. Adjusting religious differences had involved some complicated negotiations between the Most Devout and a priest of the Drowned God…_not_ Aeron Damphair, thank the Drowned God! Asha thought that exposing the Damphair to the "sin, vice and corruption" of Kings Landing would send him stark mad.

The Great Sept was a kaleidoscope of color, with the sun shining in through huge stained-glass windows. The Sept was crowded, with ironborn and local folk alike. Music thundered from an organ Asha couldn't see, as she held her head high and walked toward the altar where her betrothed waited. Tyrion was easy to spot; he was the shortest person in the little group before the altar, a blot of bright red-and-gold.

The High Septon pronounced a prayer, his expression sour; Asha thought that his first encounter with a priest of the Drowned God hadn't agreed with him, and smothered a smile at the thought of how he and the Damphair would have reacted to each other. Then a choir sang, and Tyrion and Asha recited the traditional seven vows and the seven prayers. The priest of the Drowned God pronounced a traditional blessing, asking the Drowned God to send Asha strong sons and daughters, and poured sea-water over both Asha and Tyrion's heads.

The moment had come. With a twinge of regret at leaving her old life behind, Asha felt gentle hands removing her Greyjoy cloak. She looked down at Tyrion, and grinned, squatting down on her haunches so that he could cloak her with the Lannister cloak he held out. Tyrion smiled, grateful to her for sparing his dignity. She knew that her new husband…and she could still hardly believe that she was married…was twitchy about his dignity. There was a roar of acclamation, and the deed was done.

Then came the feast. Privately, Asha had doubts about the wisdom and good taste of feasting so extravagantly in a city still half-stricken by famine and mourning the deaths of many of its citizens in the recent siege, but the Tyrells had brought in a good deal of food. She had managed to limit the feast to seven courses, one in honor of each of the locals' seven gods; the original ideas had included such insanities as seventy-seven courses, and she knew that her ironborn relatives would be horrified at such waste. On the Iron Islands, food was not a thing to treat lightly; in bad years, even nobles had to tighten their belts.

Wine, beer and ale flowed freely, but Asha drank sparingly. She wanted to keep her head clear. Tyrion followed her example, she noted approvingly. Unfortunately, others didn't. The King, in particular, was punishing the Arbor gold and red hard, and it was showing. At his age, he had very little head for alcohol, and Asha was privately doubtful that he'd be able to keep his wits about him_. Not that he had many wits_, she thought mordantly. If King Joffrey had any good points other than good looks, the news had missed her.

Symon Silvertongue, a singer Tyrion had found somewhere, was performing a song about the bravery of the defenders of the city, with heavy emphasis on Tyrion and Asha's charge against the enemy, when Joffrey displayed that he'd had too much. In a loud, carrying voice, he called down to Asha: "Lady Asha, when you tire of my little uncle, I'll happily visit you by night and make sure that your babies, at least, are normal!"

Asha's eyes narrowed, as she heard and felt her ironborn stiffening with shock and outrage. In the Islands, propositioning the bride at the very wedding would lead, at least, to a duel, if not a feud between families. Asha gestured to the ironborn to stand down. She looked at her new good-father, to see how Lord Tywin would handle this latest outrage.

While Lord Tywin still despised and resented his youngest son, he was a stickler for propriety, or so Tyrion had said. Sure enough, the Hand was on his feet. "Your Majesty, may I remind you that the Lady Asha is now your aunt, and as such, off limits?"

Joffrey sneered. "As if that would stop me! I am the King, and the King may do as he likes! She is my subject, and as such, she owes me a duty of obedience! The Targaryens married their siblings, which strikes me as far worse!" Asha smiled inwardly at the expression on her new good-sister's face. Cersei looked like she'd just swallowed a live tarantula.

Asha had figured out the truth of Joffrey's parentage, between Tyrion's clear hints and some studying she had done on geneaologies. She had never met her new good-brother Jaime, and wondered if she ever would; he'd been taken captive by the enemy some time before, and no news of his release or escape had come to Kings Landing. Judging by his twin, she thought Jaime would be utterly unbearable; in love with himself, seeing all others as dirt beneath his feet, and too handsome for his own good. She had to allow that Cersei was a blonde vision of beauty, but, looking more closely at her with a woman's keen perception, she could see that her age and the strain of her life was catching up with her.

Lord Tywin snapped: "King Aerys did just what he liked…do you know what happened to him?" At this, the room went silent. Everybody wanted to see how the confrontation between the King and his Hand and grandfather would go.

"Do not threaten me, Grandfather! You forget who sits the Iron Throne!" Joffrey was swelling up like a toad, as red as a Lannister cloak. Asha nursed a moment's hope that the worthless brat would blow a skull-side blood vessel and relieve Westeros of his presence, but she knew it was a forlorn hope at best. Like his real parents, Joffrey was strong and healthy, and almost never even slightly ill.

"I am not threatening you, Your Majesty. I am merely noting that your education has some holes in it." Tywin gestured to a couple of whitecloaks. "I believe His Majesty is weary of this feast. Please escort him back to his quarters and give him a dose of sweetsleep." Despite his protests, Joffrey found himself being politely manhandled out of the hall by several of the Kingsguard, whom Asha would have sworn were smirking to themselves.

Tywin leaned down, his mouth close to Asha's ear. "Please pardon His Majesty, my lady. His upbringing was not all it could be, and it shows in his manners."

Asha nodded graciously. "Soonest forgiven is soonest forgotten, as we say in the Islands, my lord." Not that Iron Islanders were much on forgiving. She had been sorry when Ned Stark was beheaded, since she blamed him for stealing her brother away. She had hoped, one day, to run across him and deal out a healthy helping of vengeance on behalf of the entire Greyjoy family. Even so, though, she could see that openly quarreling with the King would endanger the alliance she had worked so hard for, and she was cool-headed enough to put it aside. For now, at least.

Cries of "The bedding! The bedding!" rose. Asha braced herself. This was one custom they did not have in the Islands, and she didn't like the idea of herself and her husband being stripped naked in front of everybody in the Great Hall. For herself, she knew she could pass muster; her body was slim, trim and youthful, and she had seen enough in the women's baths to know that she had nothing to fear from scrutiny. But she wanted to spare her husband this indignity.

Tyrion stiffened, and whispered to his father. Tywin nodded, and stood up. In a carrying voice, he announced: "There will be no bedding. My son and good-daughter are still bruised and battered from the battle, and would prefer not to put their wounds on public show." The ironborn in the hall growled their agreement; one and all, they had been piously shocked at the idea of putting a lord's daughter on such a lewd display.

The Kingsguard formed up around Tyrion and Asha's seats, and they rose. Tyrion took Asha's arm, and they walked through the hall, up the stairs to the great bedroom they'd been given for their wedding night. Around them, cheers and lewd advice resounded, and Asha made some mental notes for later. Some of the variants mentioned, she'd have to ask her husband_…her husband!…_about. She also made a mental note to thank Lord Tywin. She'd rather dreaded him, but so far, he'd behaved with the utmost courtesy toward her and her people.

As she walked by, Lady Sansa sent her a _don't leave me_ look; Asha winked to reassure the girl. Then, after a staircase that seemed to stretch on forever, they were ceremoniously escorted into the bedchamber, the High Septon pronounced a mercifully-brief blessing on the nuptial bed, and, at long, long last, they were alone.

Tyrion crossed over to the armoire, pouring them glasses of wine from the bottle that stood there in ice. "Whew! That went better than I was afraid it would!"

Asha gave him a roguish smile, as she began unbuttoning her dress. "Not too much of that, husband. Wine, I am told, increases a man's desire, but takes away his performance." She accepted the cup he offered, and they clinked them together ceremoniously.

As she got naked, Tyrion looked her up and down, clearly appreciating everything she saw, and she loved the feeling. Asha Greyjoy Lannister was an unusual woman, but she was more than female enough to want to look her best, especially when about to go to bed with the man she loved. In a low voice, he said "My desire for you is so high, I don't think that any amount of wine could increase it, wife." He slipped out of his elaborate court clothing, and they rolled into bed, laughing with delight. By the time they finally fell into an exhausted, sated sleep, morning was peeking in through the windows.

END Chapter 13


	14. Chapter 14

The Kraken and the Lion, Chapter 14

_A Song of Ice and Fire_ fanfiction

by Technomad

Asha Lannister

Asha rolled out of bed, feeling wonderful. Beside her, Tyrion was sprawled out, sleeping very soundly. She grinned to herself. _Last night's exertions would have been enough to put any man out_, she thought. She, herself, was hungry and ready to face her first day as a married woman. From the angle of the shadows, it was mid-morning. Slipping quietly into some clothes, she pulled the bell-pull to summon a servant. When the maid came in, she blushed and grinned to see the evidence of last night's activities all over the place. "Good morning, my lady. How can I serve you?"

"Some breakfast. An omelet, with ham, cheese, sausage and spices, and some of those neat little sausages they have here. To drink, small-beer." Asha was careful with alcohol, since, as a woman, she didn't have the head for the stuff that many men had. It wasn't her fault, but she just didn't have the body mass to absorb it. The girl bowed and left, and soon Asha was gloating over a table full of good things to eat.

The smell awoke Tyrion, and he rolled over in bed, watching his wife with amusement. "Fortifying yourself, my love?"

"We used up a lot of energy last night. Or did you have too much to drink to remember it all?" Asha grinned as she speared a sausage on the end of her knife. "Come on; there's plenty for two. Tuck on in. We've got much to do today."

Clearly nothing loath, Tyrion scrambled into a robe and came over. Soon they were sitting companionably, eating their way through the delicious breakfast and speaking of inconsequentials. Finally, they were sipping at the small-beer, and Tyrion brought up a subject that clearly had been troubling him.

"Asha, I know my father very well, and he's got something or other planned for us. I don't know what it would be, but I think we'd best be thinking about forestalling him. How does a nice long honeymoon at Lannisport and Casterly Rock sound?"

Asha smiled. "Like something even your father couldn't really find any reasons to object to. After all, as the _newest_ member of the family, shouldn't I get to know those places?" A thought occurred to her. "Come to it…won't you be inheriting those, one day?"

A shadow passed across Tyrion's face. "Father has said that I'll never get the Rock. I rather imagine that when he dies, it'll go to my Uncle Kevan. Jaime's in the Kingsguard and can't inherit, and my sister is…Well, let's just say that sweet Cersei would manage to manage the place into the ground, and while he's never said so, I'm sure Father knows it perfectly well."

Asha was rather startled. For a father to disinherit his acknowledged, legitimate son was very rare. "Drowned God! What ever did you do to deserve that?"

Tyrion's smile was bitter. "Oh, being born the way I was, 'causing my mother's death,' at least in Father's mind…that's to start with. Being brighter than he liked didn't help. He's commented to me that had I been born a peasant, I'd have likely been left in the woods to die. But, alas," he said, stretching out his arms in a huge yawn, "I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and things are _expected_ of me."

Asha narrowed her eyes. "I wonder just who's in charge there now. When we get there, I think a long, long look at the account books would be in order."

Tyrion looked at his new wife in surprise. "You have unexpected depths, Asha. I tend to think that everybody's so in awe of Father that they wouldn't dare steal from him. He inherited from his father, who was a soft touch that everybody took advantage of, and set right out to show that there was a new Lannister in Casterly Rock. He made terrible examples of the Reynes of Castamere when they defied him. There's a song about it."

"I've heard it. They played it last night, didn't they?"

"Yes." Tyrion sighed. "As a Lannister, you're going to be shadowed all your life by that bloody song. Personally, my own tastes run more to the one about the bear, but that's just me."

Asha gave Tyrion a roguish wink, and launched into: "_A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair!_" Soon Tyrion was singing along with her, and the song's lyrics proved to be inspirational; before the end, they were kissing more than singing, and then they tumbled back into bed.

When they finally emerged, tousled and rumpled, they found Varys waiting for them. "Good forenoon, my lord, my lady," the eunuch said. "I am glad that your wedding night went so well. My lord the Hand is awaiting you in the royal solar."

"We shall, of course, head right there, my lord," Tyrion answered. As they went on down the hall, Tyrion muttered: "Knowing him and his 'little birds,' I wouldn't be surprised if he knows exactly what we did last night, down to which positions we found we preferred!"

Asha scowled. She was no prude, but to her own surprise, she found that making love to her husband was different; she did not care to have what went on in their bedchamber known to anybody but them. If she found out for sure that Varys was spying…she smiled grimly to herself. Varys had remarked that "no one sings songs for spiders," and she rather imagined that if he had a nasty, fatal accident, it wouldn't be inquired into too closely. And the Red Keep had lots and lots of precipitous stairs…

They found Lord Tywin in the royal solar, talking with Petyr Baelish. "Ah, there you are," said Lord Tywin. "Good morning, Tyrion, Lady Asha." He kissed Asha on the cheek gently. "Welcome to our family."

"Thank you, my lord," Asha answered, slightly nonplussed by this. She had expected Lord Tywin to be cold to her, and having him being welcoming was a development she hadn't expected.

Lord Tywin raised one blond eyebrow. "My lady, I should point out that my daughter and grandson are not at all representative of our family. I look forward to getting to know you better, and to welcoming the children you bear into our line."

"Speaking of that," Asha said, seeing an opening, "I was talking with my husband, and we both think that a honeymoon at Casterly Rock and Lannisport would be a wonderful idea." She made herself blush. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, and the hospitality I've experienced here is wonderful…but I feel as though I'm on display at _all_ times."

To her amusement, Lord Tywin blushed slightly. "You have a good point, my lady. I had plans to appoint Tyrion as Master of Coin, in place of Lord Petyr, but your idea's not a bad one at all."

"I am not at all sure that I could do nearly as good a job as Lord Petyr," Tyrion said. "Isn't there a maester about that has training in financial matters?" He cocked his head to one side. "And does this mean that we're going to lose the pleasure of Lord Petyr's company here in Kings Landing?"

"You were at the ceremony when I appointed him Lord of Harrenhall," Lord Tywin pointed out. "He needs to go and put Harrenhall to rights."

Tyrion whistled softly. "That's a job that'll take him a long time! Even so, though, I don't believe I am qualified to be Master of Coin. And I do find that I am homesick." He paused, looking narrowly at his father. It would also be well for one of the immediate family to be in Lannisport, to see that things are going well there. You, yourself, always said that the best manure was the lord's footprints. Lannisport needs a Lannister in residence. All that wealth…it'd tempt almost anybody."

Lord Tywin looked very thoughtful. "Excellent thinking. I have had harsh things to say about you in the past, but one thing I have never doubted is your fundamental loyalty to our House. Having you there will keep our castellans from getting ideas above their station about who rightfully owns all that gold."

"How will you get to Lannisport, my lord, my lady?" asked Petyr, his expression full of curiosity. "The roads are dangerous; although we won a mighty victory…with your heroic help…there are still all sorts of dangers on them. The realm is by no means at peace."

"_Roads_?" Asha lifted a disdainful eyebrow. "Who said one word about _roads_, my lords?" She walked over to a map and pointed. "Anywhere in reach of navigable water is open to my people, and my ship, the _Black Wind_, is in the harbor and ready to sail!" She snorted. "Roads, _indeed_! I'd never hear the end of it in the Iron Islands, if they found that I'd gone by land to some point I could reach by sea!"

Lord Tywin and Lord Petyr both looked slightly taken aback; Asha was quite amused at their expressions. "Your pardon, my lady. We're all mainly 'land' people here, and don't think in terms of going by sea, as a rule. You're perfectly right, the Black Wind can easily get you to Lannisport in a few days, and probably much more comfortably than going by land."

"Maybe we can stop off at Dorne," Tyrion mused. "I'd like to see Myrcella again, and see how she's getting on. As her uncle, I feel responsible for her."

"You're full of good ideas, Tyrion," Lord Tywin said approvingly. "You've never been to Dorne, have you? Either of you?"

Both Tyrion and Asha shook their heads. "I've sailed past, but never went to Sunspear myself, my lord," Asha answered. "I'm told it's very different from the rest of Westeros."

"It is," Lord Petyr assured her. "It stayed separate from the rest of the kingdoms, even after the Targaryen conquest. Their dragons couldn't make up for the deserts shielding Dorne, and when they did manage to get as far as Sunspear, their triumph was evanescent. Dorne finally joined up through marriage, not war."

Asha nodded, thinking hard. Dorne sounded very interesting indeed, and she was looking forward to seeing the place. From his expression, Tyrion was, as well.

Just then, who should appear at the doorway but the King? "Good morning, Grandfather, Uncle, Lord Petyr," Joffrey said, his voice belying the respectful words. "Now that the festivities are over, I suppose we can get on with our lives?" To hear him, the wedding feast had been a boring chore that had been forced on him.

Lord Tywin regarded his grandson narrowly. "Your Majesty has forgotten one person in this room. Please greet your Aunt Asha."

Joffrey looked Asha up and down, stripping her with his eyes. "Hullo, Asha," he drawled. "Welcome to the family. If you want to get to know me better, you know how to find me." His insinuating tone made his meaning quite clear.

Asha restrained herself from saying something to the effect that if she wanted to find Joffrey, she'd start by looking under every flat rock in the vicinity. Much as she had come to detest the miserable brat, he was still King, and even as a Lannister, she was his subject.

Lord Tywin stared at his grandson. "Your Majesty, you have forgotten your courtesies. The Lady Asha is a noblewoman and now your close kin. Please apologize to her for your behavior."

"Why _should_ I?" Joffrey sneered. "_Mother_ says she's a jumped-up barbarian who should be on her knees scrubbing the floor in this castle, not strutting about as though she was a person of importance!"

Tyrion stepped forward, his eyes hard as flint, but stopped at a gesture from his father. "Your Majesty, your mother is under some misapprehensions. I shall have to correct her at my earliest opportunity. In the meantime, I believe it is time for your lessons. Please run along to your tutors."

"I am King, and Kings do as they please!" Joffrey proclaimed, striking what he probably thought was an impressive pose. Asha privately thought that he looked utterly ridiculous.

"You may be King, but Kings are not all-powerful. Your tutors should have covered the events leading up to your father's assumption of the throne more closely. Aerys the Mad thought he could do as he pleased. _Pity_ about that streak of insanity the Targaryens always had," Petyr Baelish drawled.

Lord Tywin stepped forward, looming over his grandson. "Maybe when you've blooded your sword in a few battles, and have shown that you have at least some talent for rulership, you'll be King in more than name. I regret your father's passing more than I can say; for all his faults, the man did let those of us who know what we're doing get on with doing it! Now get to your lessons, or you'll get a lesson from me that you'll remember for a long time!"

Joffrey visibly wilted under his grandfather's gaze. Without another word, he turned and left. Lord Tywin wiped his brow, and turned to face Asha. "Forgive him, my lady. He is young and inexperienced, and being crowned has been a heady experience for him."

"I have noticed that," Asha said, quirking a sardonic smile. "And him being here is one good reason for me and my husband to be elsewhere, I think. I have no desire to watch Aerys coming back. Even on the Islands, we heard about him."

"I wouldn't put it past him to assault my wife," Tyrion said. "I'd prefer for our children to be mine." At this, Tywin's eyes went very wide. "You did hear what he said at the wedding feast, after all."

"I shall speak to my grandson. And my daughter," Lord Tywin promised, looking very grim. "As a matter of fact, I think it's time and past time for my sweet daughter to be married again. If nothing else, that would put an end to this _filthy_ talk of incest, once and for all."

Asha, Tyrion and Petyr all exchanged glances behind Lord Tywin's back. Asha decided quickly that if Lord Tywin refused to see, or honestly didn't notice, that of all the children that Robert Baratheon had sired, only the ones by his Lannister wife were other than dark-haired, she was not going to be the one to enlighten him.

"I'd also prefer to be out of here before things come to a head between me and the Queen," Asha said. "She despises me…you heard what the King said…and I'm not sure just how much more of her insults I can tolerate. Back home, we'd have already had it out between us."

Surprisingly, Lord Tywin grinned. "My lady, if it comes to that, you have my full permission to teach my daughter a lesson in courtesy. I shall alert the Kingsguard to not interfere if you find it necessary to resort to fisticuffs." He looked thoughtful. "She was always a wilful, arrogant girl."

Asha and Tyrion grinned fiercely at each other. Before they left, Asha promised herself, she was going to give Cersei the bruising she'd been begging for ever since they'd met!

END Chapter 14


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